Savior
by The Mind's Eye
Summary: Charlotte leaves L.A. and takes a little piece of Cooper with her, but six years later, a devastating diagnosis brings them back together as they fight to save their daughter’s life.
1. Weight of the World

**Chapter One: Weight of the World**

Charlotte pulled her rental car into the gravel driveway and killed the engine. Darkness had fallen over rural Alabama, and it was pitch black. The street lights were few and far in between, and some of the rough back roads were still lit by headlights alone. It was a treacherous drive for anyone not familiar with the blind turns and uneven roads. Charlotte, however, knew Monroeville like the back of her hand. When she was just a tiny thing, barely tall enough to see over the steering wheel, Big Daddy had used to let her drive when no one else was out on the road. It was one of Charlotte's most vivid memories of her father, and being back in Monroeville made her miss him all that much more, especially given the current situation -- Doctors had just diagnosed her momma with liver failure.

Charlotte hadn't been surprised by the news. She'd always known, in one way or another, that the alcohol and the pills would cause her mother's death. Even still, the news had touched Charlotte more than she'd expected. It felt like everything was falling apart. Her mother was dying and just few days ago, Cooper had tossed her aside like a piece of trash. Hell, he'd even come right out and called her a trashy little girl. A sex toy that he'd found on the Internet. It killed Charlotte each time she remembered those cruel words because in the end, she'd proven him right. She'd allowed him to use her at Maya's wedding and toss her back aside without a second thought. She was nothing to him. Her heart was broken but her family didn't care about that. They still expected her to jump on a plane and deal with momma in her final days.

The porch lights switched on and Landry stepped outside. He nodded to his sister, but didn't make any move to greet her. He stood on the front porch, arms crossed with a sour expression on his face as Charlotte got out of the car, retrieved her luggage from the trunk, and walked up to him.

"Good of you to come," Landry told her. He spoke to his sister as if he'd actually given her a choice in the matter. Over the phone just yesterday, his exact words had been 'I dealt with Big Daddy when he was dying, now it's your turn'. Landry had all the warmth and sensitivity of a termite. "The private nurse will come twice a week, but I figured you could handle the majority of momma's care by yourself, seeing as you're a doctor."

It was late and Charlotte was exhausted from her trip. She didn't want to argue, so she just nodded. "I'll take care of it."

Landry started down the porch steps toward his car. It was obvious he'd just stayed long enough to pass the baton off to his sister. "I left all the medical contact information sitting out. Duke will come by next week, so if you have any questions, be sure to ask him." As Landry got into his car, he threw over his shoulder, "Same thing goes if you need help wrangling momma. It's on you and Duke."

Charlotte watched her brother drive away in disgust. She knew that she shouldn't be surprised, but it still upset her. "Good Lord," she muttered to herself, "I've died and gone to hell."

X.X.X

For the next week, Charlotte threw herself completely into her mother's care. It was like she was back in medical school doing her residency. Charlotte was on-call twenty-four hours a day. She got very little uninterrupted sleep and of course, her mother was an impossible patient. Every little thing, like changing fluid bags or administering medication, took twice as long. Her mother fought her every step of the way. She was determined to do things the hard way. To say Charlotte was exhausted was a gross understatement. In reality, she was barely keeping it together. She was queasy and lightheaded, and couldn't remember the last time she'd really eaten.

Charlotte carried her mother's dinner tray out of her bedroom. She'd tried to fix her momma's favorite; country ham and red-eye gravy. Ultimately, the meal had been criticized and sent back to the kitchen without being touched. As Charlotte descended the stairs, the bottom dropped out of the room. Stars exploded in front of her eyes and her footing faltered. The tray fell from her hands and clattered onto the floor. Charlotte grabbed hold of the banister to keep herself from falling and crumpled down onto the stairs. She tried to take slow, deep breaths but the room was spinning around her. She felt like she was going to be sick or pass out, or maybe even both.

"Hey there, Lolly." Charlotte hadn't heard the front door, but her younger brother, Duke, with house keys still in-hand, was kneeling down beside her. He touched her arm and asked, "What's hurtin' you?" He ran his hand over her ankles. He obviously expected to find something straightforward like a sprain. "What's happened?"

Charlotte covered her mouth with her hand and choked out, "I'm gonna be sick."

Duke immediately backed off and put some distance between them. He was in law school and not medical school for a good reason. He couldn't stomach the sight of blood or vomit. It made all six foot, two inches of him turn into a sissy. "I can, uh, wait - in the living room." Duke stepped away from her. "Give you a minute to pull yourself together, and get some control."

Charlotte sat there for at least five minutes practicing deep breathing. Eventually, with time, the nausea passed and her head cleared. She used the banister to pull herself to her feet and descend the rest of the stairs. "Duke," she called him back into the foyer. "It's nothing. It's passed, and I'm fine."

"It sure looked like something." Duke emerged from the living room and helped her pick up the contents of the dinner tray. "Momma's gonna give you an earful." He held up a piece of fine china, chipped at the rim, and said, "These are her company dishes."

"Well, they'll be mine in another couple months-" Charlotte grimaced and conceded, "That's an awful thing to say."

Duke didn't fault his sister. He knew his mother had a way bringing out the worst in people. "No worries, Lolly, I won't tattle on you." He winked at her and added, "Besides, I've already laid claim to the silverware."

Charlotte laughed despite herself. "God, we're ugly people."

"No," he told her. "We just cope in ugly ways."

Duke carried the tray into the kitchen and put it in the sink. When he turned around, he saw Charlotte had sat down at the table and put her head into her hands. She looked exhausted and run down, and like she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. Duke watched his sister close her eyes and message her temple. "I've got migraine pills, if you want some, but you gotta promise not to crush them up in momma's breakfast first."

Charlotte looked up and smirked. "Tempting, but not necessary." She closed her eyes again and told him, "I'm just queasy from running myself ragged. When I get back to my hospital, I'm giving all the hospice nurses a disgusting raise." She set aside her pride and admitted, "End of life care is harder than I thought it would be."

"Okay, good. I'm glad that's the reason you're having fainting spells." Duke chuckled and made a lighthearted confession, "Because, for a minute there, I was afraid you were gonna tell me that you were pregnant."

**...TBC...**

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A/N: This story isn't going to be the run of the mill BABY! story. I'm trying to put a new twist on an old standard, so please bear with me and REVIEW!


	2. Precious Gifts

**Chapter Two: Precious Gifts**

_Pregnant._ Charlotte had rolled her eyes and chided her brother for even suggesting it. Ridiculous, she'd told him, and part of her genuinely believed it was ridiculous. She was a doctor. She was careful with her body. She didn't play Russian roulette with birth control, so to fall pregnant like some stupid teenager, would be an insult to her intelligence. Charlotte was better than that, smarter than that, and definitely more careful than that. But later that night, after her mother was asleep and her brother was gone, Charlotte sat up around the kitchen table stress-eating pecan pie, and wondering if it was really all that ridiculous.

The pill wasn't a hundred percent effective, and Cooper hadn't worn a condom. In the heat of the moment, with Cooper's hands up her dress and his lips against her neck, Charlotte hadn't wanted him to wear one. She'd wanted to feel that connection, and hoped that Cooper would feel it too. Stupid wishful thinking, she told herself. Cooper had barely looked her in the face afterward and hadn't wasted any time zipping up, and getting right back to his date. Charlotte hated herself for letting it happen. She'd allowed herself to be used, and now, she would have to deal with the consequences.

Charlotte laid down her fork and scrutinized the half-eaten piece of pie. Five minutes ago, it had been the most delicious thing she'd ever tasted in her life, but now, she felt overwhelmingly sick to her stomach. Charlotte's head went down into her hands and she took a couple of deep breaths, then whispered, "Please God, I trust in you, but I can't have a baby right now."

X.X.X

For the next couple months, Charlotte safely ensconced herself in a cocoon of denial. She dedicated all her time and all her energy to her mother's end of life care; the doctor's appointments, the never-ending insurance paperwork, the revolving door of powerful medications, and the nasty side-effects from said medications. Whenever Charlotte stole a moment for herself, it was always spent grabbing a quick shower or a bite to eat. She didn't have time to agonize over her situation or think about the future. She just focused on surviving each day and blindly trusted that everything else would work itself out in the end - it didn't, of course.

Charlotte had every cliched pregnancy symptom in the book. She was perpetually sick to her stomach, her breasts felt swollen and tender, her emotions fluctuated at the drop of a hat, and most telling of all, Charlotte had skipped two periods. Her cycles had always been irregular, but coupled with the other symptoms, it was pretty damning evidence.

Pushing open the door to _Williams and Beeland, _the oldest pharmacy in Monroeville, Charlotte found that, like the rest of the town, it hadn't changed much. There were still four aisles in the center, a drug store in back, and a counter where, on the weekends, local kids could sit and order milkshakes until their parents called them home for supper.

"Well, I'll be - it's Nathan King's daughter!" Mrs. Beeland ran out from behind the counter to give Charlotte a hearty hug. When she finally pulled back, she took a good look at the younger woman and exclaimed, "Honey, you look terrible." She felt Charlotte's arms through her clothes, frowned, and said, "You're so skinny, like one of them anorexic celebrities." Mrs. Beeland shooed a couple of rowdy neighborhood kids away from the counter to make room for Charlotte. "We need to get some food into you. How would you like a strawberry milkshake - extra strawberries and whip?"

Charlotte smiled despite herself, but reluctantly told her, "No, no, I can't." She reached into her purse and pulled out her mother's prescriptions. "I just came to get these filled."

Mrs. Beeland's face fell. "Of course you did, honey." She took Charlotte's hands in her own and told her, "I just want you to know that everyone at Southside Baptist is praying for your momma." Charlotte managed a weak smile and Mrs. Beeland realized she'd touched a nerve. To smooth things over, she took the scripts from Charlotte and said, "I'll fill these myself, honey, just wait right there."

Charlotte thanked her and agreed to wait up front. Not two minutes later, as Charlotte eyed the sweets behind the counter, she felt a light tap on her shoulder. When she swiveled around, she immediately recognized an old friend from high school. "Cindy - Cindy Parker?"

"Charlotte King, as I live and breathe," the smiling brunette said with a laugh. "How the hell are you?"

"I'm alright," Charlotte told her, "I'm hangin' in there."

From her sympathetic nod, Cindy obviously knew about her mother's condition. She opened her mouth to offer her thoughts and prayers, but was interrupted by a tug at her pant leg. A little boy, around five or six, thrust a colicky baby up towards Cindy and said, "He won't stop cryin', momma Cici."

Charlotte was taken aback and stammered, "I didn't know - I mean, no one told me - you have kids?"

"They're my step-kids," Cindy said, flashing her wedding ring, "But I love 'em like my own."

Charlotte was in awe as she watched her friend soothe the fussy baby. Cindy had always been the wild child, the trouble maker around town, so it was shocking to see her so warm and maternal. It was beyond surreal. Charlotte struggled to recover and mask her surprise. "So, you're married," she finally inquired, lost for anything else to say. "Who's the lucky guy? Anyone I know?"

"Jack Johnson."

Charlotte's eyes went wide. "Jack Johnson - the kid who mooned our graduating class?"

Cindy looked to make sure her older step-son was out of earshot before saying, "Yeah, and just between God and the two of us, he's still got the ass of an eighteen year old."

Caught off-guard, Charlotte's face split into a huge grin. "Well," she laughed, "Lucky you."

The jingle of Cindy's cell phone interrupted the two women, and Cindy shifted the baby on her hip to reach into her purse. She searched blindly for a few seconds, then sighed, and told Charlotte, "I swear, you need another hand with little ones. Can you hold him for a minute?"

Charlotte wasn't given a chance to respond before the baby was deposited into her arms. She stood there awkwardly, not sure how to hold him or how to make either one of them feel comfortable. The last time she'd held a baby had been years ago, back in medical school, and the experience alone had prompted her to cross pediatrics off her list of possible specialties.

"I - uh, I don't think he likes me very much," Charlotte said, trying to keep her grip as the baby squirmed. "You better take him back."

Cindy covered the mouthpiece of her cell to whisper, "Just talk to him, let him know you're friendly." She moved towards the door, telling Charlotte, "Mrs. Beeland will skin me alive if she catches me talkin' on my phone in here - I'll be right back."

As soon as Cindy was outisde the door, the baby started to wail. Charlotte shifted him onto her hip to try and make him more comfortable. She tried to rub his back and pat his bottom, but he wouldn't quiet down. Finally, out of sheer desperation, Charlotte held the baby up against her chest so she could look him in the eyes. "Hello, there," she ventured in an uncertain tone, "I'm Charlotte."

The baby stopped crying and looked at her intently, his big blue eyes blinking slowly and deliberately under thick, dark lashes. "I - uh, I like your eyes," Charlotte told the beautiful child, "They remind me of someone I love - or used to love." The baby responded by way of reaching up and grabbing hold of her nose. "Hey, that's mine," she scolded him, "You've got your own." Charlotte shifted the child onto her hip and used her free hand to touch the tip of the baby's nose. "It's right here, in the center of your face."

When the baby gave her a toothless grin, Charlotte automatically smiled right back. "That's right," she said, hearing the gentle shift in her tone, "You've got your own nose, a pair of blue eyes, two red lips-" Charlotte took the time to point out each feature on her own face, then touched the corresponding feature on the child's face. "You've even got your own chin."

Cindy stepped back into the store and watched Charlotte interact with her step-son. "You're a natural."

"Yeah, right." Charlotte tried to appear detached as she reluctantly handed the child back. "Me with a little kid - that's insane."

"It's not insane," Cindy told her. "I never wanted kids, but now, I can't imagine my life without them." She smiled at her step-son, touched his chubby cheek, and said, "They're precious gifts from God."

Charlotte smiled a tremulous smile. "You really think so?"

"Honey, I know so."

With a knowing wink, Cindy said goodbye to her old friend and corralled her boys out of the store. Charlotte was left standing there alone, lost in her own thoughts, until Mrs. Beeland emerged from the back with her mother's prescriptions. "Alright, here we go," she announced, walking around the register. She rang everything up, then looked to Charlotte with a sweet smile and asked, "Is that all for you today, sweetheart?"

"No - No, not exactly." Charlotte licked her lips and forced herself to meet Mrs. Beeland's gaze. "I need a pregnancy test."

Judging from the shocked look on the older woman's face, that was definitely the last thing she ever expected to hear from Nathan King's daughter.

**...TBC...**

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A/N: One more chapter until we fast-forward six years...Are you guys hangin' in there? If so, you better REVIEW.


	3. Embracing Fate

**Chapter Three: Embracing Fate **

Charlotte always expected she'd have a baby at some point during her life. She'd caught herself thinking about it from time to time, but never more so than during her relationship with Cooper. The man was a Pediatrician, for God's sake. He loved children, and made no secret about wanting a few of his own. At their happiest, Charlotte had entertained the idea that - in a few years, once they were married and settled - she might take a step back from her career, and raise a family with him. But then, everything went to hell so completely, and Charlotte just assumed that having babies together was off the table. Silly her.

The pregnancy test confirmed what she'd already known in her heart; ready or not, she and Cooper were going to be parents.

It was a scary reality, and it couldn't have come at a worse time. Charlotte was committed to staying in Alabama for the foreseeable future. She wasn't about to make the same mistake she'd made with Big Daddy, and be halfway across the country when she was needed back home. And even if, by some miracle, her brothers offered to step in and take care of their mother, Charlotte was still in no hurry to get back to Los Angeles and confront Cooper. He'd been so cruel and hateful, almost to the point of being emotionally abusive. When she thought about the things he'd said and the way he'd treated her, Charlotte honestly didn't know if she wanted to raise a child with him.

"Makin' faces like that will give you wrinkles." Duke came through the back gate, catching Charlotte unaware. From her position on porch, sitting in a low chair looking out over momma's vegetable garden, he clearly had the element of surprise. Duke climbed the first step and planted himself there. He scrutinized his sister for a few seconds, crossed his arms and asked, "So, what's the verdict?"

Charlotte frowned. "Verdict, what verdict?"

"C'mon, Charlotte," Duke said with a chuckle. "This is Monroeville. You can't buy a pregnancy test in front of half a dozen witnesses and expect it to stay quiet for very long."

"Oh, my God," she groaned, closing her eyes. "How bad?"

"It was one hell of a daisy chain," he told her, sounding almost impressed. "Mrs. Beeland told her sister-in-law, Mrs. Owens, who told her daughter, Madeleine, who's best friends with the organist at Central Baptist - I forgot her name, but she works part-time at the New Life Christian School, where she told another teacher, Mrs. Hollander, who, I'm pretty sure is havin' an affair with the owner of M & V Dry Cleaners - rumor has it, when she drops her clothes off, so does he - but then, the poor bastard turned around and confided in his wife, Elizabeth, who's the god-daughter of my law professor, Mrs. Donnelly." Duke sat beside his sister on the porch and concluded, "So, here I am, askin' if it's true."

Charlotte wasn't ashamed, per se, but she'd still hoped to keep this private. Her unplanned pregnancy was no one's business but her own. Unfortunately, it looked like the cat was already out of the bag on this one. "It's true," she admitted. "I'm...well, I guess, I'm havin' a baby." A nervous laugh slipped out as she told him, "I'm tryin' real hard to keep it together, but it's, y'know..."

"Heavy," he volunteered.

"It's very, very heavy," Charlotte readily agreed. "I mean, I'm not a kid person. I've never been a kid person. And here I am, havin' my own kid."

Duke pondered that for a few minutes but ultimately came to the conclusion, "Yeah, it's scary and all, but it could turn out somethin' great."

Charlotte looked sideways at her brother. "How do you figure?"

"Big Daddy is gone, Momma is slippin' into darkness, and Landry is busy bein' a dick-" Charlotte chuffed out a laugh. "So, the way I see it, we're the only ones left." His brow creased, clearly upset, as he realized, "I mean, hell, Charlotte, our entire family is gone - it's just gone." Duke marveled at the loss they'd endured and then reflected out loud, "It might be nice to breathe some new life into this house, y'know?"

Charlotte was surprised to discover that she did know. She understood completely, but she still felt compelled to interject, "I don't live here anymore, you know that."

"Aw, c'mon, Charlotte," Duke ribbed her. "No one wants to raise a kid in Los Angeles. It's all buildings and concrete, with no room to run or trees to climb. The public schools are crap and the private ones cost a pretty penny. Hell, there's a Starbucks on every street corner but not a single church in sight." He smiled at his sister and made the case, "But here in Monroeville, you can send the kid to a good-quality public school. Teach him how to fish, or hunt, or ride horses. People around here still go to church on Sundays and kids can play outside without gettin' snatched by some pervert." Duke knew his sister well enough to save the best for last. "And I bet the people at Monroe County Hospital would trip all over themselves to hire you. They'd worship the ground you walked on."

Charlotte grinned despite herself. She liked the idea of being a big fish in a small pond, but she tried to stay realistic. "That's all nice and good, Duke, but the daddy lives in Los Angeles."

"If he cares so damn much, where the hell is he?"

"Well," Charlotte ducked her head. "I, uh... I haven't exactly told him." It was impossible to convey all that had transpired between her and Cooper, but she tried her best to explain, "We're in an awful place in our relationship - we're in shambles, really. He won't even look me in the face, let alone have a rational, adult conversation with me." Charlotte sighed, eyes downcast, wondering how it had come to this. "I guess I'm just tryin' to figure out how to deal with him, or if I want to deal with him at all."

"You're havin' this man's baby, Charlotte." Duke's tone was uncharacteristically gentle. "And I know you well enough to say, if you didn't tell him, you'd regret it will your whole heart."

X.X.X

Charlotte forced herself to dial the phone before she lost her nerve completely. With every ring, it became more apparent that no one was going to answer. When she finally got Cooper's machine, it was a huge relief. It gave her permission to hang up and put off the unpleasant task for another day. But then, she heard his voice on the recording, and Charlotte decided to hell with it. She needed to say her piece. After the beep sounded, Charlotte just started talking, and hoped that his tape deck was long enough to get it all.

X.X.X

Jordana Sampson was in the shower when the phone started to ring. She didn't pay it any mind until she remembered that Cooper had stepped out to grab them some dinner. "Goddamn it," she swore, quickly rinsing the shampoo out of her hair and grabbing her towel. She opened the bathroom door, hot steam escaping into the apartment, just as the machine picked up. A woman's voice filled the apartment:

_"Hey, Cooper. It's me - it's Charlotte. If you're there and you're screening my calls, please pick up the phone. It's really important."__ The woman waited a few seconds, then sighed, "Okay, I guess you're not there, but I'm still gonna come right out and say it -- I'm pregnant...I'm pregnant and it's your baby." She chuffed out a laugh as if the news was still unbelievable to her. "I know- I know it's bad timing for us. We're fighting and I'm halfway across the country, and you won't pick up your damned phone..." The woman was rambling, but she quickly got back on point, "I know things are terrible between us and I know you hate me right now, so I'm gonna leave the ball in your court."_

_"If you wanna be a daddy, call me back, and I'll come back to Los Angeles. We can raise this baby together, as equal partners, regardless of whether or not we ever get back together."_

_"But if you're still angry and you don't want anything to do with us, I guess you can just erase this message and that'll be the end of it – I won't call back and bother you."_

_The woman's voice became very quiet, almost vulnerable. "But you should know, if you don't call back, I'll probably stay here in Alabama to raise the baby - close to family, and all that." It finally became obvious that __the woman was fighting back tears. "So, uh, call me back or don't -- It's your decision." _

_She hesitated like she didn't want to say goodbye. "I hope I'll hear your voice soon, but if I don't, please know I'm gonna take really good care of this baby-" Her voice warbled and cracked. "I promise to raise her up right and love her somethin' special."_

_"Alright," she concluded, not bothering to hide her tears anymore. "I'm gonna go now before your machine eats my message…Bye, Coop."_

Jordana stood there stunned at her good fortune. She couldn't believe what she'd just overheard, and that it had fallen right into her lap while Cooper was out of the apartment. It was almost too easy. She walked over, barely five feet to the answering machine, and pressed one little button - and it all went away.

_"Message erased_," the machine announced.

...TBC...

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A/N: The next chapter will pick-up six years later...Charlotte will believe that Cooper opted out of fatherhood, and Cooper will believe that Charlotte never came back from Alabama without so much as a goodbye...Oh, the drama! Review!


	4. Ladybug

**Chapter Four: Ladybug**

**--Six Years Later--**

"Marjorie, stop that." Charlotte's reprimand earned her a sly smile from her five-year-old daughter. The pint-sized little blond widened her eyes - the same blue shade as her father's - and shrugged her shoulders in an exaggerated display of innocence. The look she was giving her mother, the you-couldn't-possibly-blame-me-for-being-so-stinkin'-cute look, nine times out of ten, did the trick with other unsuspecting adults. Teachers, babysitters, even the occasional t-ball coach had been charmed by that angelic face. But Charlotte knew her daughter better than anyone, and she recognized an act when she saw one.

"Marjorie Louise King," she warned, "I'm sittin' right here. I can see you." Charlotte pointed across the breakfast table at her daughter's hand poised to sneak the dog another piece of bacon. "Do it again and you'll be enjoyin' your cheesy grits in time-out."

"But momma," the little girl pouted, "Scout is givin' me sad eyes."

Charlotte put her palm on the tabletop and leaned down to look at the Boykin Spaniel trained below her daughter's chair. The old hunting dog, adopted from a neighbor when he was too arthritic to flush out quail anymore, was, indeed, begging for scraps with so-called 'sad eyes'.

"Scout," Charlotte used her most authoritative voice, and ordered, "Go on now, get."

Marjorie watched the old dog struggle to his feet and limp into the next room. The empathy she felt was clearly etched onto her pretty, little face. "Momma," the tender-hearted girl began in earnest, "I think you went and hurt Scout's feelin's."

Charlotte smiled at her baby, and assured her, "No, Ladybug, he's just mopin' around today, feelin' sorry for himself."

"Because his legs are hurtin' him?"

Her daughter was only five - well, technically, five and a half - but Charlotte didn't believe in sugar-coating anything. She wanted her daughter to always feel secure, and know in her heart that her momma would always, no matter what, tell her the God's honest truth. "It's hard gettin' old, Ladybug. There's lots of aches and pains, and some days, it's hard to keep on keepin' on."

Marjorie's brow furrowed. "How old is old? Like, thirty-eight?"

Charlotte abruptly swallowed her coffee, nearly choking. She coughed into her napkin and laughed, "Are you callin' me old?"

"No." The little girl shook her head and there was obviously no malice intended. "I just - Do you hurt...like Scout?" Her childlike reasoning wasn't far behind, "'Cause, y'know, you're older."

Charlotte smiled at her daughter and reassured her, "Actually, Scout is older." Marjorie tilted her head to the side, intent on understanding. "Animals count years different than people. Sixteen isn't sixteen in dog years, it's a lot more." Charlotte wasn't about to get into the math when her daughter could barely tie her own shoes. Instead, she smiled and asked her baby, "So, y'know what that means?"

Marjorie perked up. "What?"

"It means," Charlotte grinned. "I can go fishin' with you, ride horses with you, and anything else that strikes your fancy for a really, really long time." She winked at her daughter and promised her, "You won't be leavin' me in your dust anytime soon, Ladybug."

"Good." The little girl punctuated that with a nod, then asked her mother, "Can we go fishin' this weekend?"

Caught off-guard, Charlotte laughed and said, "I don't know-"

"Please," Marjorie whined, and they were back to business as usual. "Please, momma, please-"

"Maybe," she concedes, "If the weather keeps."

"Can I bring Matty and Jacob, from down the street?"

Charlotte picked up her breakfast dishes and walked around the table. She smirked at her daughter, and warned, "Don't press your luck, Ladybug."

"Okay, then," Marjorie gave a cheeky smile. "How 'bout just Matty?"

"Try again."

The little girl realized her mother was only going to accept one answer. "How 'bout just us?" she offered.

"Good guess." Charlotte stopped to check her watch, then announced, "Fifteen 'til eight." She picked up her daughter's breakfast plate and juice glass, and told her, "Go brush your teeth and grab your bookbag. Real fast, Ladybug. We should be on the road already."

Charlotte watched her daughter grab her napkin and wipe it across the entire lower half of her face. "Alright, momma." She scooted out of her chair and bounded up the stairs. The jingle from the dog's collar alerted Charlotte that Scout wasn't too far behind, and putting forth an impressive effort to climb the tall staircase. Seconds later, when Charlotte set her daughter's plate into the sink, she realized exactly why; the piece of bacon was missing. "That little sneak," she whispered, unable to keep the proud smile off her face. She would let it slide, just this once.

After finishing up in the kitchen, Charlotte walked into her home office to get her things together. She was in the middle of organizing her papers when she heard Marjorie spring down the stairs. "Ready, momma." The little girl stopped in the doorway to fuss with the straps on her backpack, then repeated her mother's words back to her, "C'mon, we should be on the road already."

"Give me a minute, Ladybug." Charlotte shuffled through her papers, throwing over her shoulder, "Meet me outside by the car, 'kay?" She heard her daughter's resounding, "Alright, momma" and then the sound of the front door closing. Charlotte tried to take her minute and regroup. "Budget report, check. Nurse pay roster, check." She tracked down her car keys amidst all the clutter, grabbed her blazer, and asked herself, "What am I missin'?" Charlotte answered that question, and poured herself another cup of coffee for the road. "Ready."

When Charlotte got out to the car, she expected to find Marjorie waiting for her. "Damn it," she swore, looking around in all directions. It was all rural, wooded landscape on both sides, the house behind her, and the dirt road in front of her. A blond-haired little girl with pigtails and a purple backpack would stick out like a sore thumb, but she didn't see her anywhere. "Marjorie!" Charlotte scanned the treeline for obvious movement. "Marjorie, come on! We're gonna be late!"

The little girl materialized behind her mother's back. "I'm right here."

Charlotte startled and whiped around. "Marjorie," she scolded, "I told you to stay by the car."

"I'm sorry." She waited for her mother to deactivate the car alarm and open the backdoor. "I went to the barn. I wanted to tell Possum to have a good day."

"And sneak her extra oats, too, I imagine." Charlotte knew it was true, because she used to do the same thing with her own horse. "Maybe a carrot or two when momma's back is turned, huh? Is that the way it still works?" Marjorie didn't admit to anything outright but her sly smile was back. In Charlotte's mind, that was as good as an admission. "I thought so," she laughed, climbing into the driver's seat. "Belt buckled, Ladybug?"

"Yes, ma'am," Marjorie reported, hugging her backpack.

"Alright." Charlotte started up the engine and the radio roared to life: _"It's two minutes passed the hour on this beautiful Wednesday morning. You're listening to WMFM - Monroeville's favorite country music station-"_

Marjorie's groan could be heard from the backseat. "Do we have to listen to this?"

Charlotte pulled out onto the main road. It was busier than usual with locals rushing to work, and families rushing to school. Charlotte glanced in the rear-view mirror, craning her neck to get a better look at a landscaping truck that was riding her blind spot. She happened to notice Marjorie's scowling face in the mirror, and it brought her back to her daughter's question. "Why not? What's wrong with it?"

"Because," Marjorie screwed up her face, "It's country music, and I hate country."

_"Because," Cooper screwed up his face, "It's country music, and I hate country."_

Charlotte did a double-take in the rear-view mirror. As a rule, she tried not to think too much about Cooper, but their daughter sometimes made that impossible. Every once and a while, usually when she least expected it, Marjorie would do or say something that triggered a memory of her father. Admittedly, some memories were nice and harmless, but memories from the bad times, even six years on, still made Charlotte's breath catch and her heart ache.

A blasting car horn startled Charlotte out of her reverie and back into the present. She tried to slam on the brakes, but she'd already sailed clean-through a stop sign. The opposing pick-up truck tried to swerve out of the way, but there wasn't enough time to react. There was only the sickening sound of metal colliding, and glass breaking. Charlotte lost consciousness after the airbag deployed.

X.X.X

Charlotte was lying in the emergency room, feeling beat up and ashamed. She held a cold compress against her bruised nose, courtesy of the airbag, and told the Deputy Sheriff, "The accident was entirely my fault. I wasn't paying attention, and I missed the stop sign."

"You're lucky no one was seriously injured," the policeman told her. "But I'm still going to have to cite you for reckless driving."

"Yes, of course." Charlotte wasn't about to argue with him. She knew she deserved it. Her focus had been a thousand miles away, stewing in the past, when she should've been driving. She couldn't believe she'd been so careless, so negligent - so stupid - with her baby sitting in the backseat. If anything had happened to her daughter, Charlotte never would've forgiven herself.

"The minor that was in the car," the deputy consulted his notes, "I need to get her statement, too."

"Oh," Charlotte adjusted her icepack. "I sent my daughter upstairs to X-rays-"

The officer frowned. "X-rays? I was under the impression that cuts and bruises were the only injuries."

"They are," Charlotte quickly assured him. "I just - y'know, as a precaution-" Considering what she'd just done, Charlotte was embarrassed to admit, "I'm Chief-of-Staff here at this hospital, and I noticed a deep bruise on her chest from the seat belt. It's probably just superficial, but I want to cover my bases."

"Momma!" Charlotte turned at the sound of her daughter's voice. The little girl had cried inconsolably in the minutes after the crash, but now, she seemed back to her old self. One of Charlotte's colleagues, a close male friend on occasion, had taken Marjorie up to X-rays with, it appeared, an ice cream pit-stop in the cafeteria. "Look, momma, what Dr. Bellamy got me." Marjorie held up the sticky ice cream cone. "Extra sprinkles and everything 'cause I was brave."

"You were," Charlotte told her daughter, affectionately smoothing her hair. "You were very brave."

The officer kneeled down in front of Marjorie and said, "Hi there, honey. My name is Jack and I'm a police officer. Can I talk with you for a few minutes?"

Marjorie looked to her mother for permission, and Charlotte told her, "It's okay, Ladybug. I'll be right here."

Once the officer had led Marjorie into a waiting area, Charlotte turned to Dr. Bellamy. She wanted to thank him for looking after Marjorie, but she noticed three other doctors - two board members and an oncologist whose name she couldn't remember - had walked up beside Bellamy. They all had very serious, somber expressions on their faces "Gentlemen," Charlotte greeted them,"What brings y'all down into the trenches?" Their collective presence automatically made her nervous. "I'm not gettin' fired, am I?" she tried to joke.

"No, Dr. King, of course not," Dr. Lewis, the head of the board assured her, "You're the best Chief-of-Staff that this hospital has seen in quite a few years."

"Well, I appreciate that." Charlotte watched Dr. Lewis glance at the other board member who was staring intently at his expensive Italian loafers. Dr. Bellamy, a friend of sorts, wouldn't even look her in the face. "I apologize for my candor," she finally told them, "But what the hell is goin' on here?"

The physician whose name she couldn't remember stepped out from the group and extended his hand. "Dr. King, I'm Dr. Henderson. I'm the head of oncology, sixth floor."

"Of course," she said, his name finally clicking. "We've met before, but it's been a while."

"Yes." Dr. Henderson met her eye but his smile was forced. "Would you mind if we stepped into an office and talked?"

"I'm sorry, I can't." Charlotte motioned toward the waiting room, "I'm waitin' for my daughter to finish up, and then I'm gonna take her home."

"Please, Dr. King, it's important."

Charlotte noticed that Dr. Henderson was holding an X-ray folder in his other hand. She caught a flash of her daughter's name written across the outside, and a sick feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. "Why do you have my daughter's X-rays?" Her eyes flickered from one man's sullen face to another. "What is it? What did you find? An internal bleed from the accident?"

"Dr. King, I think we need to step into my office-"

"No." Charlotte felt herself begin to panic. "You'll tell me right now. What did you find?" When Dr. Henderson wouldn't give her a straight answer fast enough, she made a grab for the X-rays.

Dr. Bellamy finally spoke up and tried to stop her. "No. Charlotte, don't-"

But she was past listening to anyone. She pulled her daughter's X-rays out of the folder and put them up onto the board herself. When Charlotte saw what they'd seen - a small mass in the chest cavity - she doubled over and Dr. Bellamy had to help her into a chair.

_Cancer. _

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A/N: What did everyone think? Do y'all like Marjorie? Do y'all like Charlotte as a momma? Thoughts? Feelings? If so, you better REVIEW!


	5. Rain Check

**Chapter Five: Rain Check**

"Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia." Duke felt like he needed to say it out loud to make it real. But when he finally got the words out, the medical terminology sounded like a foreign language, and only made him feel like a visitor in a strange reality. "I - I don't understand," he told his sister, struggling to wrap his mind around the news. "Marjorie is the healthiest kid I know-"

"Acute Leukemia can form in a number of weeks, days even." Charlotte emerged from her walk-in closet, toting her suitcase. She heaved it up onto the big, queen-sized bed in the center of her bedroom and said, "It's reasonable to assume that Marjorie's condition is relatively new, which would explain the total lack of symptoms." Charlotte unzipped the suitcase and walked over to her bureau. She opened the top drawer, pulling out entire handfuls of clothes. "The car accident was just that - an accident, but it was the luckiest damned accident we ever could've hoped for." Charlotte looked up to impress upon him, "That chest X-ray probably saved her life."

Duke was still playing catch-up. "I don't understand," he told her, "How does one X-ray picture translate into cancer?" He shook his head, completely out of his element. "I'm a law student. I don't understand biology, or oncology, or any of that medical stuff, but I thought cancer was an invisible type-thing." Duke stopped himself, and verified, "Leukemia is a type of cancer, right?"

"It's a cancer of the blood." Charlotte shut the top drawer of her bureau and opened the next one. "The bone marrow produces white blood cells that don't mature properly, they can't regulate themselves, and start to crowd out the healthy cells." Charlotte dumped an arm-full of sweaters onto her bed, then disappeared inside the closet. "We saw the cancer on her X-ray because Marjorie's lymph system, which usually carries her healthy cells, carried the cancer cells into her chest, and they created a tumor, of sorts."

Duke lowered himself into a chair and tried to absorb it all. "So, uh," he hesitated, "What do we do? I mean, there's a cure, right?"

Charlotte carried at least half a dozen pairs of slacks out of her closet, and folded them into her suitcase. "No cure." She picked up the sweaters, smoothed out the wrinkles, and packed them inside next to the slacks. "But there are treatments - lots of 'em, some better than others."

"So what are the treatments for Acute Lympho-" Duke stumbled over the diagnostic term, "Lympho- ...y'know, Marjorie's type of leukemia."

"Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia," Charlotte repeated slowly. She walked over to her dresser and removed her undergarments, tossing them up onto the bed. "It's A.L.L. for short," she told him, "And the treatment is usually chemotherapy."

Duke already knew what that meant. He'd watched Big Daddy go through four months of chemo before the doctors had shrugged their collective shoulders, and handed down their six-month prognosis. It had been absolutely hellish, those four months of chemotherapy, and Big Daddy had been a grown adult. Duke just couldn't imagine a child - a little child like Marjorie - enduring the same. He looked up at his sister who was moving about the room, packing, and the words just slipped out: "Why are you so calm?"

Charlotte froze and looked at him. Her expression was stone-cold. "I am Marjorie's only parent," she snapped at him, "As much as I'd like to curl up into a ball and cry, I don't have that luxury. Someone needs to take control, make arrangements, and coordinate the important things that need gettin' done." She leaned over and zipped up her suitcase, righting it on the bed. "I'm dealin' with this the best way I know how, and it may not be pretty and you may not understand it, but I need to stay in control - in doctor mode - or it's gonna swallow me whole."

"Of course, I'm sorry." Duke shook his head and apologized, "I'm just worried. I didn't mean anything by it."

Charlotte never accepted his apology outright, but she extended an olive branch. "You wanna make yourself useful?" She motioned toward her closet and instructed, "Go grab my file box off the top shelf."

When Duke emerged carrying the bulky box, he asked, "What's all this?"

"Important papers." Charlotte had him set it on the foot of the bed so she could extract the necessary documents - Marjorie's birth certificate, her Social Security card, and all their insurance information - and safely tuck them inside her purse. "The hospital will need copies for their records."

"Monroeville County Hospital already has copies of all that stuff," he told her, pointing out, "Marjorie was born there and they provide your insurance."

"I'm not takin' Marjorie to MCH." Charlotte picked up her suitcase and her purse, and carried them out into the hallway. She stacked them at the top of the staircase before Duke caught up with her.

"What do you mean?" he demanded, "If you're not goin' to MCH, where are you goin'?"

"Philadelphia," she answered simply.

"Wh - Philadelphia, why?"

Charlotte walked into Marjorie's room and into her closet. She pulled the little girl's Spiderman-themed suitcase off the top shelf, and laid it open on her purple, frilly bedspread. She'd already started packing her daughter's clothes when Duke came through the doorway behind her.

"Well?" he pressed, "Why Philadelphia?"

"The Children's Hospital of Philadelphia." Charlotte opened her daughter's dresser drawers and emptied them onto the bed. "They're the best," she told him, "Number one in the nation, and pediatric oncology is their specialty." Charlotte started folding Marjorie's clothes into the small suitcase. "I went to medical school with someone who works there now. We stayed in touch and she owes me a favor, so she's agreed to take Marjorie on as a new patient."

"But what about MCH?" Duke was incredulous. "You work there, and you're chosin' another hospital?"

Charlotte looked at him, without apology, and said, "This is my baby's life that we're talkin' about here. Of course I'm chosin' the bigger, better hospital with the unparalleled reputation. What parent worth their salt wouldn't?"

Duke knows that makes sense, logically. Who wouldn't want the best for their kid? He wanted Marjorie to receive the best possible treatment available just as much as Charlotte did; he just didn't want to see his only family worth a damn leave and go hundreds of miles away to get it. And as strong as he knew the King women – both big and little – were, there are some things you just shouldn't have to do alone, and Duke is pretty sure cancer is one of them. "I can come with you," he offered.

"No," Charlotte told him, "Don't be ridiculous. You're in law school here, and I won't have you fallin' behind on my account." She finally fit her daughter's clothes into the suitcase and told him, "I've been a single parent for six years now. I'm not gonna up and fall apart, especially when Marjorie needs me to be strong. Besides, someone's gotta stay here and take care of that barn full of animals out back."

"And I'm to assume that's me." Charlotte nodded, surveying the room for anything tucked away that she'd missed. Duke hated to poke at old emotional wounds that never quite healed at a time like this, but he felt compelled to point out, "You can always call her father, y'know, if you're in dire straits."

Charlotte's reaction wasn't what he expected. "Yeah, right," she scoffed, "Because that worked out so peachy the first time - what with him not callin' me back and everything." Charlotte grabbed Marjorie's teddy off her bed and tucked it into the suitcase – then pulled it out again a minute later. Marjorie would want it during their long car trip. "I have enough to deal with right now," she mused aloud, settling the teddy snug against the suitcase so it wouldn't be forgotten. "I'm pullin' a sick five-year-old outta kindergarten, away from her friends and her home, and draggin' her across the country for a cancer treatment, that, to be honest, I don't think she understands one bit." Charlotte hefted the suitcase, carried it out into the hall, and dropped it at the top of the stairs before concluding, "No, thank you. Cooper Freedman is the last thing I need right now."

"It was just a suggestion," he says, passing her the teddy. "In case you need some support - a shoulder or a hand, or whatever."

Sadness passed across Charlotte's face and she told her brother in a soft, resigned tone, "He made his choice six years ago, Duke. Wasn't there for me – for us – then; can't imagine he'd wanna be here now." She looked down, intent on avoiding his gaze for fear that he might see clean-through her. "I stopped holdin' my breath for Cooper Freedman a long, long time ago."

Duke knew that wasn't true. His sister had waited for that man to show up on her doorstep all throughout her pregnancy, cried for him during her hard, thirty-six hour labor, and even for some time after that, got a hopeful look in her eye whenever a car came rolling up the driveway. Hell, for the first year of Marjorie's life, she'd even kept a picture of the two of them, taken during happier times, tucked into her top dresser drawer. He'd overheard his sister showing it to Marjorie once or twice, pointing out Momma and Daddy. Like she'd wanted her daughter to know his face, if the bastard ever did deign to show up. Duke found that same frame inside the trash, glass broken, two days after Marjorie's first birthday, and he hadn't seen the picture since.

Not too long after that, Charlotte had started dating again– if one could even call it that. Getting her itches scratched was more like it. In the whole time since she'd been back in Monroeville, the only commitment Charlotte King had made was to her daughter.

Charlotte checked her watch and announced, "We need to get goin' before darkness falls."

"How are you gettin' there?" Duke felt stupid pointing out the obvious, "Your car is down at Johnson's wrecker."

"Rental car."

They carried the bags down and loaded them into the car without much fanfare. As Duke shut the trunk, he told Charlotte, "That trip is too long to make in one fell swoop, even the way you drive. Ya'll should stop somewhere for the night."

"We will."

Duke didn't want them to go, but he put on a brave face. "Well, I guess I better say goodbye to the lil' miss. Where is she?"

Charlotte's smile was pained. "Hazard a guess."

Duke and Charlotte found Marjorie exactly where they knew she would be; in the stable with her animals. She was sitting on the floor of the stall with Possum, her chestnut mare, grazing on the hay spread out around her. Scout was lying beside her with his head resting in her lap. Marjorie appeared to be delivering them both a prepared speech about why she had to leave, reassuring them that they were loved, and that she was going to come back for them. It was heartbreaking, and Charlotte found herself wishing she could just pack up everyone and everything that Marjorie held dear, and take them all to Philadelphia, too.

"Hey, Ladybug." Charlotte reached through the bars and opened the stall door. "It's 'bout that time, I'm afraid."

Marjorie's pitiful expression - big blue eyes and pouting lips - could gut any person with one look. "Please, momma," she begged, "Five more minutes."

Charlotte shook her head. "We're already runnin' out of daylight." She knelt down in front of her daughter, gave Scout a good scratch, and promised, "Uncle Duke is gonna take real good care of Possum and Scout, and all the other animals, while we're gone."

Marjorie looked to her uncle. "Cross your heart?"

"'Course," he told her, easing into a little false bravado, "These animals are gonna love me so much, they won't even notice y'all are gone."

"They will, too, notice," Marjorie argued, even though she seemed to appreciate the basic sentiment. "They'll miss me." She bent down and hugged Scout hard around the neck, just a hair short of choking him. "They'll miss me a lot." She aimed a kiss at his snout that landed on one of his floppy ears. "They won't have any fun without me."

"Well," Uncle Duke teased her, "You certainly think a lot of yourself, lil' miss." He looked at Charlotte, and added, "You're your momma's daughter, that's for damned sure."

"Language," Charlotte reminded.

Duke made a show of rolling his eyes at Charlotte which earned him a grin from Marjorie. "As I was sayin'," he told his favorite and only niece, "I'm gonna spoil these animals rotten, so you have nothin' to worry 'bout."

Marjorie eased out from underneath Scout and launched herself forward to hug her uncle. It caught him completely off-guard, and knocked him backward a bit as the little girl squeezed him with all her might. "I'm really gonna miss you, Uncle Duke."

"I'm really gonna miss you, too." He pulled back and smiled at his niece. "But you'll be back, better than ever, real soon."

The little girl hesitated, "I - I hope so."

"Oh, lil' miss, I know so." Duke smoothed back her hair. "Now, go on." He turned his niece toward Charlotte and gave her a playful swat on the bottom. "The sooner you go, the sooner you'll get back."

Marjorie took her mother's outstretched hand and allowed herself to be led out of the barn. Every couple steps, she'd glance back, and the tears didn't look too far behind. Charlotte helped her daughter into the backseat of their rental car and buckled her seat belt. She planned to drive straight through Marjorie's bedtime, so she tucked her daughter's favorite blanket around her, and her teddy right beside her. "Feelin' snug?"

Marjorie's blue eyes were trained to her teddy bear to hide her tears. "Snug as a ladybug in a rug," she mumbled quietly, using their special bedtime phrase. Charlotte nodded and went to close the door, but Marjorie spoke up, "We're not goin' fishin' this weekend, are we, momma?"

"No, Ladybug," Charlotte told her, her heart breaking for her daughter. "Rain check."

**...TBC...**

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A/N: Sit back and enjoy the story. Things are starting to take shape, and Cooper will make an appearance soon enough... R E V I E W!

Also, a big 'Thank You!' to my awesome beta SomewhereApart. This is, without a doubt, my favorite chapter and I couldn't have done it without you! :)


	6. Pecan Waffles

**Chapter Six: Pecan Waffles**

Charlotte hit her stride just after one in the morning. She'd cleared Knoxville with no problem and was sailing down the dark, virtually deserted interstate toward her destination, and deciding whether or not to rescind on her promise to stop for the night. Marjorie had long since fallen asleep in the backseat. Her baby was a lot of things, but a night owl wasn't one of them. At seven forty-five on the dot, Marjorie had hugged her teddy, mumbled something about just restin' her eyes, and promptly sacked out. Which was good because it gave Charlotte a chance to make up ground lost by stopping every half-hour for potty breaks and crunchy, crumbly snack foods that fell down between the leather seats, and made her kiss goodbye any hope of getting her rental car deposit back.

She knew it was her own fault, though. Crumbs had seemed like such small potatoes compared to cancer, so Charlotte had allowed Marjorie to go hog wild on pretzels and Ritz crackers, and pistachios for dinner. It had been a real treat for the little girl who was used to eating whatever healthy meat-and-vegetable medley her mother set in front of her. She'd declared it a good and right backseat picnic and happily munched away with some help from Teddy, who, according to Marjorie, liked pistachios the best. Charlotte had smiled and nodded like that meant perfect sense, and decided not to speculate too much about where all those cracked pistachio shells were ending up since the cup holders were empty, and so was the pistachio bag. Small potatoes, she'd reminded herself.

As she made her way down the dark interstate, Charlotte made the decision that she wouldn't stop that night. It was true that she was only seven hours in on a seventeen hour drive, but it was peaceful at night. The roads were empty and she would make great time, and besides, she was no stranger to sleep-deprivation. And best of all, driving while Marjorie slept gave her free reign to listen to National Public Radio without getting any attitude from her little peanut gallery about how boring it was, how it was the only thing worse than country music, and couldn't they please go back to the Disney music station before they missed the hundredth rendition of 'Can You Feel The Love Tonight' from the Lion King. So, yeah, Charlotte was enjoying the hell out of her National Public Radio.

Unfortunately, right where Asheville Highway intersected with Interstate Forty, Charlotte felt a little chin nuzzle up against her shoulder from behind and mumble, "I need to go bathroom real bad." The little girl sounded half-asleep and barely coherent. "It's a 'mergency, momma. I can't hold it no more."

"Marjorie," she sighed, a little annoyed that, in all likelihood, she would have to pull off somewhere up the road and waste more time on bathroom breaks. "It's late at night. I can't just take you to some seedy-lookin' rest stop with long-haul truckers and transients. It's not safe."

"But momma," she insisted, employing a full-on whine, "I gotta go now."

"Can't you wait thirty minutes until we hit Dandridge?"

"It can't wait!" Marjorie was notorious for being impossible first thing when she woke up, and this was no exception. She screwed up her face like she was on the verge of an exhausted tantrum and cried, "I gotta go right now."

Charlotte's nerves were wearing thin. "Okay, fine," she relented. "Get back there, buckle your seat belt, and I'll find somethin' suitable." Marjorie scooted back into her seat but she didn't buckle her seat belt until Charlotte warned her, "Marjorie Louise King, I know you're tired but I'm not about to tolerate this behavior. So, please, adjust your attitude and buckle up – now."

"Fine," the little girl huffed, adding underneath her breath, "Stupid head."

"Excuse me?" Charlotte craned her neck around to look at her daughter. "What did you say to me?" She glanced back at the road but kept her ear trained to the backseat. "I asked you a question, Marjorie Louise, and I expect an answer -- What did you just say to me?"

Marjorie realized that she'd pushed it too far, and tried to backpedal. "I didn't mean nothin' by it," she mumbled quietly, kicking the back of the passenger seat with swinging legs. "It's just-"

"It's just nothin'," Charlotte told her, her tone meaning business. "And if I catch you sayin' it again, I'm gonna bend you over my knee and give you a well-deserved spanking." She glanced back at the little girl and asked her pointedly, "Do we understand each other?"

Marjorie hung her head and intoned, "Yes, ma'am."

"Good." Charlotte turned her full attention back to the road just in time to spot a sign for an exit. "Waffle House, half a mile."

The little girl sulked - arms crossed, hangdog look - until they pulled into the Waffle House parking lot two minutes later. Despite needing to go "real bad," she stayed rooted in her seat until her mother opened the back door and explicitly told her, "Unbuckle yourself and c'mon."

"Yes, ma'am," she mumbled.

"Thank you." Charlotte helped her daughter out of the car and kept her close in the dimly-lit parking lot. She popped the trunk, grabbed a pair of cozy, comfy pajamas for the little girl. She hoped, maybe, if she could get her daughter comfortable, she would go down and sleep for the rest of the drive. "Alright, let's go." Charlotte shut the trunk and locked the car, and they made their way into the chain restaurant. It was bright and reasonably cheerful, but deserted by the late hour.

A fifty-something waitress looked up from her trashy tabloid magazine and said, "Sit anywhere, hun. I'll be right with you."

"Thanks." Charlotte slid into the booth nearest the bathroom. She handed Marjorie her nightgown and instructed her, "Go potty, change yourself, and come right back here." Her creeping exhaustion showed on her face and she stifled a huge yawn. "I'm gonna order some coffee and maybe, some toast."

Marjorie inched toward the bathroom, stopping long enough to shoot her mother a hopeful look. "And waffles?"

Charlotte checked her watch. "It's two in the morning."

"But momma," her daughter argued, "Those 'stachios aren't holdin' me, and I'm gettin' hungry."

"I thought you needed to pee _real bad_." Charlotte arched an eyebrow. "Or did I just imagine that?"

"I'm goin', I'm goin'." Marjorie relented and disappeared inside the restroom, but not before making it known, "Pecan waffles, no syrup."

When the waitress walked up to the table, she chuckled, "You've got your hands full with that one there."

"Yeah." Charlotte couldn't help but smile. "She's a character."

"Well," the woman pulled out her notepad and asked, "What can I get for you?"

Giving the menu a quick glance, she said, "We'll share the All Star Breakfast - make the waffles pecan, no syrup. I'll have a black coffee and she'll have warm milk."

"I got you." The waitress winked at her. "Trying to get her good and sleepy."

"Tryin'."

A few minutes later, Marjorie emerged from the bathroom dressed in her favorite ruffled purple and pink nightgown. She dumped her armful of inside-out clothes onto the table for her mother to get right-side-in again, and triumphantly announced, "All changed." She crawled into the booth, tucked her feet up underneath her bottom so she could be a couple inches taller and asked, "So, what'd you get?"

Charlotte sipped on the coffee that the waitress had delivered moments ago. "Well, Ladybug," she began, deciding to have a little fun with her daughter. "I got the All Star Breakfast for us to share – eggs, toast, grits…" She caught her daughter's poorly-concealed grimace of displeasure, and couldn't help but smirk when she added, "And a couple of pecan waffles, no syrup."

Marjorie sat up a little straighter and gave her one of those smiles - those sunny, everything-is-right-in-the-world smiles - and Charlotte found herself wishing that she could just take a mental snapshot of her daughter right at that exact moment. That way, in the dark months sure to come, she would have something to help remind her what a healthy, happy five-year-old is supposed to look like. All they need is pecan waffles – no syrup – and they're on top of the world. It's just that simple.

Except, Charlotte's pretty sure there aren't enough pecan waffles in all of Philly to last them through what's coming next.

**...TBC...**

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A/N: We're one chapter closer to Cooper, and ya'll better REVIEW now!

Also, another 'Thank You!' to SomewhereApart - You continue to rock.


	7. Holes

**Chapter Seven: Holes**

"Momma, look!" Marjorie pressed her hands and face up against the floor-to-ceiling windows that spanned her hospital room. "Look at 'em! Look at those tall buildings!" Her rapid, excited breathing made little puffs of air against the glass as she took everything in. "They're so... so pretty," she decided after a beat. "And look!" She moved along the window, leaving little smudged fingerprints in her wake. "Look how high-up that church goes!"

Charlotte was dragging from the trip - eighteen hours once everything was said and done - and she just wanted to get her daughter settled into her room before she hit a wall. She opened the small closet, eyeballed the space, and decided she'd brought along far too many of her daughter's clothes; Charlotte realized she'd just have to live out of her suitcase for a while. "Oh, yeah," she told the little girl, paying her only half a mind. "Those buildings are pretty neat, alright."

Marjorie turned and caught her mother's attention focused elsewhere. "You're not lookin'," the little girl accused, her brow furrowing and hands instinctively finding her hips. "You can't even see the buildings from there," she fretted.

"I can see them just fine." Charlotte pulled two fistfuls of plastic hangers out of the closet, then walked over to where Marjorie's suitcase lay open on the bed. "Now," she told her daughter, "Come over here and help momma unpack." Charlotte glanced up in time to catch the little girl making a ghoulish, cross-eyed face at her. "I saw that," she warned. "Do it again and you'll be enjoyin' the view from time-out."

The little blond heaved a huge sigh, shoulders slumped forward, and mumbled, "Fine." She walked over, feet dragging, and took a couple hangers from her momma. "I'll help you unpack the stup-" Marjorie caught herself and recovered as best a little girl could. "Silly suitcase."

Charlotte pursed her lips to mask her smile. "Thank you."

Marjorie went up on her very tippy-toes and tried to nab something off the elevated hospital bed to hang. She couldn't quite reach the suitcase, so she bit her lip and added a little jump for good measure. Charlotte was about to offer some help, but she appreciated - hell, she encouraged - Marjorie's independent streak. And so, she watched with pride as her daughter did a little problem solving, and threw her full weight against a chair and pushed it up against the bed. She climbed up, grinning and victorious, and announced, "See, I can do it."

"I know you can." Charlotte ruffled her daughter's hair and started to say something about how she needed to have her bangs trimmed, only to remember where they were and what they were about to do; Marjorie wouldn't need a haircut once she started chemo.

"What's wrong, momma?" The little girl tilted her head to the side, sensing that something was wrong. "Why do you look so sad?" She reached up and grabbed hold of her mother's hand and asked her, "You're thinkin' about home, aren't you?"

Charlotte shook her head. "No, Ladybug." She perched beside her daughter on the bed and pulled the little girl close. "I just love you so much, and sometimes that makes me sad because I wanna keep you safe; tucked away in your lil' pumpkin shell forever."

Marjorie's face abruptly brightened and she said, "Oh, momma, I got shells." The little girl scooted across the bed and grabbed her Little Mermaid pillow that she'd brought from home. Charlotte noticed that the pillowcase made a strange noise, and saw exactly why when her daughter turned it upside down and a pile of pistachio shells spilled out everywhere. "There was no trashcan in the car," Marjorie told her, giving a little one-shouldered shrug.

"No trashcan in the car," Charlotte repeated, a grin splitting across her face. The way her daughter's mind worked - the childlike logic - never failed to amuse her. "So, lemme get this straight - you put 'em into your pillowcase?"

"Well, yeah." Marjorie nodded. "They kept fallin' outta my lap."

Charlotte wasn't sure what to say to that, so she laughed and told her daughter, "You're a one-in-a-million goose, y'know that?"

The little girl gave a big, brassy smile, and boasted, "One-in-a-googol-infinity."

"I'm not sure that's a real number."

"It is, too," Marjorie argued. "It's the mostest."

"It's the most," Charlotte corrected. "Mostest isn't a word."

Charlotte realized a second too late that she'd just admitted - yes, it was the most - and Marjorie was about to trip her up. Fortunately, she was saved by a firm knock on the doorframe. "Well, look at this - Dr. Charlotte King turned into a mommy," playfully taunted a female voice, and Charlotte immediately recognized that voice as belonging to her old med school buddy.

Charlotte turned toward the door, smiled, and rejoined, "Well, look at this - Dr. Sydney Murphy turned into a redhead."

Sydney laughed and stepped into the room holding a welcome basket. The attractive, well-dressed doctor started to say something about her newfound hair color, but stopped short when she got her first good look at Marjorie. "Geez, Char," she exclaimed. "You told me you had a kid, not a clone."

Charlotte smiled at her daughter, who, admittedly, favored her quite a bit. The blond hair, the Roman bone structure, the straight nose, and light olive skin was all her. Cooper could lay claim to the bright blue eyes, but everything else belonged to her. "What can I say," Charlotte laughed, "I guess my genes are just as domineering as the rest of me."

Marjorie took notice of the welcome basket in the doctor's arms. It was filled with all sorts of coloring books, crayons, healthy snacks and candy, and Marjorie wasn't the least bit shy. She asked outright, "Is that all for me?"

"All for you," Sydney told her, setting the basket onto the bedside table. Before Marjorie became too engrossed in her new toys, she smiled and introduced herself, "Hi Marjorie. I'm Dr. Murphy and I'm going to be your doctor while you're here." She added, "I went to Johns Hopkins with your mommy, did you know that?"

Marjorie looked to her mother, perplexed, and asked, "Who's John Hopkins?"

Charlotte and Sydney looked at each other and laughed. "No, Ladybug." Charlotte partially covered her mouth to hide her smile. "Johns Hopkins is a place - a college and a hospital - not a person we know." The little girl offered up an exaggerated shrug; it didn't matter much to her.

Sydney chuckled. "Got your mommy's personality, too, I see." Her comment fell on deaf ears as Marjorie made her way over to the bedside table to inspect her gift basket. She was totally focused on her loot, oblivious to the rest of the world around her, so Sydney ventured, "Hey, Marjorie. Would you care if I borrowed your mommy for a minute? We need to talk about some boring, old grown-up stuff."

"'Kay," the little girl answered, barely looking up.

Sydney moved toward the door and happened to catch sight of the clock. "Hey, and if we're not back in ten minutes, a nice lady named Ms. Brooks will probably stop by your room. She pushes around a cart of books, and you can choose anything you want." Sydney smiled. "I bet you're a little bookworm, am I right?"

Marjorie had flipped open a coloring book, and was working on opening the big box of sixty-four crayons. "My teacher is just now teachin' us," she said, stopping to carefully select "Cotton Candy" pink over "Desert Sand" pink. "I like Eloise."

"Oh, yeah," Sydney agreed. "Eloise is good and sassy." She smiled at the little girl, and told her, "Well, ask Ms. Brooks if she has any Eloise books, and we'll be right back."

Charlotte stood up, secure in the knowledge that Marjorie was content and occupied, and followed her friend out of the room. It was fairly obvious that there was something Sydney wanted to discuss in private. And once they were safely inside Sydney's office with the door closed, she smiled and told her friend, "She's adorable, Char."

"Cutest thing this side of the Mississippi," Charlotte agreed. "But I'm guessin' that's not the reason you pulled me in here."

Sydney's smile faltered and she didn't bother denying it. "Still got those instincts, I see." She circled around her desk and took a seat, then motioned for Charlotte to sit across from her. "I actually wanted to discuss Marjorie's treatment plan and some holes in her medical history."

Charlotte saw Sydney hesitate, so she told her flat-out, "Talk to me like a doctor or talk to me like a mom, but don't tip-toe around me because we're friends."

"I appreciate that." She took a deep breath and began, "Once we finish here, I'll page our Child Life Specialist and the three of us will sit Marjorie down and explain her treatment in a very child-friendly way. We'll keep it simple and age-appropriate, and answer any questions she may have." Sydney alternated between speaking to Charlotte like a doctor and speaking to her like any other concerned parent. "As you well know, Marjorie's first procedure will be done today. I'll put her under a local anesthesia and insert a port in her chest where she'll receive her medicines, fluids, chemotherapy - things like that - and then, we'll run a number of standard tests, and get some blood work done."

"Chemotherapy will begin tomorrow?" Charlotte already knew the answer, but she wanted to confirm it.

"Assuming everything goes well and there are no surprises; yes, chemotherapy will begin tomorrow morning."

"Okay." Charlotte tried to put on a brave face, but it did nothing to ease the ache in her chest. "Tomorrow."

Sydney had enormous sympathy for her friend. Charlotte was living every parent's worst nightmare, but in a situation like this, there were certain things that just couldn't be overlooked. "Now," she began. "As I was reading through Marjorie's medical history, I noticed some very significant holes - specifically, her father's side of the form is blank."

"Yes." Charlotte nodded, and explained the discrepancy very matter-of-factly, "Marjorie's father is not a part of her life. He's not listed on her birth certificate or in her medical chart with her pediatrician - which, I assume, got faxed over and that's what you're lookin' at."

Sydney prefaced her next question with: "I have to ask, so forgive me - But, do you know who her father is?"

"Yes."

"So," her friend reached for a pen. "You can give me the information - the vital medical information - for me to fill-in?"

Charlotte shook her head. "I have no information about his medical history, or that of his family." She quickly clarified, "He was adopted as an infant, so I doubt that he himself could answer most of those family-related questions."

"I'll be honest with you, Charlotte; in most cases where we have a blank side of the form, it's because the father is unknown. It's not ideal but we deal with it." Sydney closed the medical chart and bluntly told her friend, "However, in this case, the father is known, so I'd strongly urge you to reach out to him and get any medical history he can provide you with." She told her, "The smallest detail - an allergy he has that Marjorie may have inherited - can help us enormously."

The thought of speaking to Cooper Freedman after all these years made Charlotte's stomach churn, but if Marjorie needed it done, she'd do it. She'd walk through fire for her daughter. She'd take a bullet for her daughter. Surely, she could pick up the phone for her daughter. Charlotte swallowed the lump forming in her throat and said, "If it'll help you help Marjorie, I'll do it."

Sydney's respect for her friend multiplied tenfold. She stood up and offered, "I'll step out and you can use my phone." She motioned to Marjorie's chart lying closed on her desk. "Just fill-in as much medical history as he knows, and we'll make it work."

Charlotte nodded. She reached across the desk for the phone, not wanting Sydney to see her anxiety, and started to dial. It wasn't until the door was closed that she allowed her fingers to tremble. Six years. She hadn't heard Cooper's voice in six years, but she told herself she could do this; Marjorie needed her to do this.

A man - not Dell, she noted - picked up the after the third ring. "Oceanside Wellness. How may I help you?"

"Yes." Charlotte cleared her throat, and took a deep breath. "I- I need to speak with Dr. Cooper Freedman."

**...TBC...**

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A/N: I know y'all have waited for this, so you better REVIEW!

Thanks to SomwhereApart who tolerates me on short notice - on a Saturday, no less!


	8. My Daughter

**Chapter Eight: My Daughter**

Dr. Cooper Freedman strolled into the Oceanside Wellness break room on Thursday morning, and his good mood instantly soured. Over the past eighteen months, he'd quickly come to dread the color blue – divorce papers kind of blue – and this was no exception. "How bad is it this time?" Cooper walked up beside his best friend, Dr. Violet Turner, who'd helped herself to the court papers as soon as the courier delivered them, and was now fully engrossed in all the dirty details. "Jordana already got half the house, half the savings, and alimony." He dropped onto a bar stool, hangdog look, and asked, "What does she want now – my soul?"

Violet made a noncommittal noise as she read on. Two pages later, a slight frown creased her face and she announced, "She's accusing you of hiding assets."

"Oh, that's rich," he scoffed. "I have no assets left to hide thanks to her." Cooper leaned forward and grabbed the box of kiddie cereal - the kind with the marshmallows - and crunched it straight out of the box. "I mean, come on; I gave blood at the hospital yesterday just for the fifteen bucks."

"I'd keep that quiet if I were you." Violet glanced up at him, and half-joked, "If Divorcing Barbie finds out, she'll want her seven fifty."

After hearing that, Cooper made a show of reaching into his wallet and pulling out the cash. He extended it to Violet and quipped, "On second thought, be a friend and hide what's left of my assets."

She pushed his hand away, laughing. "No way," she told him. "That woman scares me. She's a special brand of crazy that no amount of therapy could ever fix, and trust me - I know crazy."

Cooper's smile abruptly faded, and he turned stone-cold serious. "That's not funny."

"Coop, come on." A nervous laugh bubbled to the surface as Violet reminded him, "Jordana's put you through hell these past six years. Your marriage was one fight after another, one affair after another, and you always forgave her." Violet never quite understood Cooper's blind spot when it came to his soon-to-be ex-wife. He'd overlooked all the deal breakers and always insisted that she deserved another chance. "That horrible woman filed for divorce and didn't even have the decency to tell you before you were served."

"I know that," Cooper insisted, sounding more than a little defensive. "Trust me, Vi; I know better than anyone what kind of person Jordana turned out to be, but until our divorce is finalized, she's still my wife." He forced a weak smile and urged his friend, "It's okay to joke, but c'mon – there's still a line."

Cooper had spent the majority of the last six years defending Jordana's every misstep, so Violet wasn't surprised to see him fall back into old habits. Still, it frustrated her beyond belief. "Jordana's never shown the slightest regard for your feelings. Why-"

"Because, I just- She's- I can't-" Cooper got frustrated with himself and snatched the papers away from Violet. He moved towards the door, and said, "Let's just drop it, okay?"

"But I'm not ready to drop it." Violet pushed off her kitchen stool and followed him down the hall. "Cooper, come back here," she called, her voice tinged with concern. She finally caught up with him inside his office, and begged, "Come on, Cooper. We've been best friends for - what, forever, right? You can talk to me about anything."

"I could never talk to you about Jordana," he argued calmly, sitting down at his desk and turning on his computer. "You always hated her." Cooper reminded his friend, "When I came to you, devastated because Jordana didn't want to have kids, you said – and I quote – thank God for small miracles."

"Oh, come on, Coop. You knew I was kidding - sort of." Violet wished that she'd been wrong about the other woman, but unfortunately, her instincts had been spot-on. "Regardless," she said. "I love you, and I want to help you." Violet did her sympathetic therapist head tilt, and asked the question she'd been asking for six years now: "Why are you holding onto her?"

"I'm not-"

"Yes, you are," she told him. "You've been holding onto her - clinging, really - since the very beginning, and I don't understand why. Even now, after everything she's done, you're still reluctant to let her go."

Cooper sighed, "She's the last six years of my life." He broke Violet's gaze and finally admitted, "And I can't quit again."

Violet frowned. "Again? Who-"

"Sorry to interrupt." The receptionist, a nice kid in his twenties, stuck his head into the office, and said, "Doctor Freedman, some woman named Charlotte King is on line three. She's demanding to speak with you, and won't take no for an answer."

Violet immediately looked to Cooper for some kind of explanation - some kind of something - to tell her why, after six long years of no contact, Charlotte King was on the phone. To Violet's understanding, Cooper never heard from Charlotte again after she'd gone home to care for her dying mother. She was supposed to be on extended leave, but then, one day out of the blue, Addison called a staff meeting to announce she'd gotten a call from Charlotte, and she would be resigning her position at the practice effective immediately. That same afternoon, a group of professional movers descended upon her offices at both Oceanside and St. Ambrose, even Violet's own house, and boxed up everything and took it away. And that was the end of it; Charlotte King just never came back.

"Have you spoken to her since-" Violet ventured.

"No." Cooper shook his head, stunned. "She never- There was never-" He coughed, his mouth suddenly gone dry. "She just...vanished - like she'd never really been here to begin with."

Violet nodded toward the phone, line three blinking insistently, and said, "Well, she's here now." Violet asked him, "Are you going to answer it?"

"I don't know. I mean - No." Cooper shook his head. "I don't know." He caught sight of the caller I.D. and wondered out loud, "What is she doing at the Children's Hospital of Philadelphia?"

Violet picked up the phone, pressed the button to connect to line three, and said, "There's only one way to find out."

Cooper's mind went blank as the phone was thrust into his hands. He fumbled it, nearly losing his grip with sweaty palms, but he managed to right the phone against his ear. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. He literally couldn't think of anything to say, so he sat there for a second until Charlotte must have heard him breathing.

_"Hello?_" she prompted, clearly aggravated. _"Is anyone there?"_ When there was no response, she ordered, _"Kid, if you can't figure out how to transfer the phone call, just tell me and I'll walk ya through it." _She waited for a few beats, then prompted,_ "Kid, are you there?"_

"It's me." Cooper wasn't sure when his brain started working again, but he repeated himself, "It's me," adding, "It's Cooper." A giant rush of air left his lungs and he chuckled, "I can't believe you called. Part of me always worried you'd gotten turned around in some tobacco field, and couldn't find your way out-"

Charlotte cut him off_, "Spare me the attempt at wit, Cooper. I just need your medical history for my daughter's hospital records."_

Cooper was immediately at a loss. "You have a daughter?" His mind was racing, trying to digest the news that the Charlotte King he'd known had become someone's mother during the last six years. It didn't even register that she'd asked him for medical information. "And she's in the hospital? She's alright, I hope."

_"No,"_ Charlotte snapped._ "As a matter of fact, she's not alright. She has A.L.L. and-"_

"She has leukemia?" Cooper's heart instantly sank, and the outpouring of compassion was genuine. "I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do?"

_"Just give me your family medical history - from top to bottom - and you'll never have to hear from us again."_

"What are you talking ab-" Time stopped, and everything hit Cooper all at once. His chest heaved as every breath of oxygen left his lungs. He lurched forward in his chair, damn near doubled over and felt himself go lightheaded. "My daughter," he realized. "You're talking about _my_ daughter."

There was a strange silence on the other end of the phone, then: "_How dare you call her that - like you've earned the right."_ Charlotte's voice caught out of sheer fury. _"She's my daughter - mine. Not yours. You're just the sperm donor that never gave a damn."_

Cooper knew Charlotte was talking, but all he could hear was white noise. His whole body was shaking and his mind was reeling, and he just couldn't stop thinking 'my daughter' over and over again. He forgot to breathe - forgot to speak - and just lapsed into a suspended, shocked silence. Finally, Violet stepped in and took the phone out of his hand.

"Charlotte. It's Violet." Even she sounded anxious as she demanded, "What the hell is going on?"

The anger seeped out of Charlotte's voice, leaving only frustration. _"Violet, this is between me and Cooper."_ She appealed to the other woman, _"I know you're his keeper, but please, I need you to put him back on the phone."_

Violet looked at Cooper who was bent over with his face buried in his hands, and decided that just wasn't going to happen anytime soon. "What's going on? What did he mean - his daughter?"

_"My daughter,"_ Charlotte emphasized, and then said somewhat bitterly, _"I'm surprised he didn't tell you."_

"Tell me what? What are you talking about?"

_"Well, long story short, Cooper went and got me pregnant the night of Maya's wedding. He opted outta fatherhood so here I am, all by myself, caring for my sick child and needing him to man-up long enough to answer some simple medical questions."_

Violet lowered herself onto the edge of the desk for support. "You left because you were pregnant."

_"I left to raise my baby where she'd be loved and wanted."_

Violet nudged Cooper with her foot until she got his full attention. Then, she covered the mouthpiece of the phone to ask him flat-out, "Did you know about this?" He stared at her in a daze, but managed to shake his head. "Charlotte," Violet rubbed her temple. "Tell me why you think Cooper opted out of fatherhood because I'm looking at him right now, and he's crushed. He says he didn't know, and I'm inclined to believe him."

_"Look, Violet," _she said_, _clearly frustrated._ "I didn't call to be jerked around. What Cooper tells himself so he can look himself in the mirror every morning is his own business. The only thing I want - the only thing I care about - is medical information to help my daughter." _

Violet could hear the desperation in Charlotte's voice, and from one mother to another, she wanted to console her. "The phone captured your number at the Children's Hospital of Philadelphia. I can have the records faxed over."

A relieved sigh followed, then a heartfelt, "_Thank you_."

Violet heard the gentle click of a phone hanging up, then the sound of a dial tone filled her ear. She slowly lowered the phone and replaced it inside the cradle. When she turned to look into Cooper's anguished face, she didn't know what to say, except: "You have a daughter."

Neither spoke for the longest time until Cooper arrived at the same delayed conclusion. "I have a daughter." He stood up, still a little shaken and uneasy on his feet, and said, "I-I need you to drive me to the airport."

**...TBC...

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A/N: I'm gonna go hide underneath a rock while y'all REVIEW!

Thanks to SomewhereApart for some editing magic.


	9. Dr Cooper

**Chapter Nine: Dr. Cooper**

Even six years on, Cooper still vividly remembered that night. He remembered talking with Charlotte inside the church - something about how life was hard and he shouldn't judge - but the conversation had been rife with emotional minefields, so he'd just wanted to end it. He'd turned his back on her, hoping that she'd take the hint and keep her distance. But not his Charlotte. She'd sidled up at the end of the pew, made some lame joke about teens and their texting, and invited herself into his row. It had been impossible to turn her down; she'd looked so damn beautiful in that clingy silk dress. Cooper remembered thinking it really wasn't fair to the young bride and started to say something to that effect, but of course, Jordana had interrupted all that fragile goodwill.

Now, looking back on it, Cooper cringed at his callousness. He'd thought that inviting Jordana would be a fun tit-for-tat. He'd just wanted to get a rise out of Charlotte, and never really stopped to consider that he might cross a line and hurt her feelings. It wasn't until he saw the expression on her face - the perfect mix of hurt, dejection, and utter sadness - that Cooper realized what he'd done. He'd felt like a bully, and rightfully so. He'd gone and hurt Charlotte just for the sake of hurting her, and that was inexcusable. And apparently Charlotte had agreed, because that bad behavior had cost him the first five years of his daughter's life.

Cooper walked across the lobby of the Children's Hospital of Philadelphia, and right up to the information desk. He was operating with a handicap - not knowing his daughter's name - but he was used to the hospital environment. He knew how to manipulate the system, and make it work for him.

"Hi." Cooper smiled at the young volunteer on duty, and said, "I'm Dr. Freedman from Los Angeles, and I'm looking for a pediatric oncology patient with the last name of King."

"Of course, doctor." She returned his smile, assuming without question that he'd been called to consult on the case. With a few quick taps on her keyboard, she located the information he needed. "Here we go; we have one pediatric oncology patient with that last name." She looked up and announced, "Marjorie Louise King - Seventh floor. Room 7032."

_Marjorie Louise._ Cooper's chest tightened when he heard his daughter's name for the first time. He should've known that Charlotte would make good on her promise to name their baby after her beloved mare. "Thank you." He managed a nervous, shaky smile and walked over to the elevators. There was already a small group of visitors waiting, and he noticed they were all holding gifts for their sick loved ones. It gave Cooper pause, and really drove home the point that he wasn't just meeting his daughter; he was meeting a gravely ill little girl, and chances were, that little girl could probably use something to brighten her day.

After a quick stop back at the information desk to ask for directions, Cooper found his way to the hospital gift shop. At first glance, it was all a little overwhelming. Easily seven hundred square feet, they had everything from books and toys to candy and clothes. Cooper browsed a couple shelves of Get Well cards, but he was a pediatrician, and knew that five-year-olds typically ranked cards right up there with socks from grandma. And he wanted a cool gift. He wanted a gift that would go right into the heart of a little girl. Something sparkly, maybe. And pink. Pink was good.

"Can I help you, sir?" A perky salesgirl materialized beside him, all blond and impossibly shiny, and inquired, "Shopping for anything special today?"

"Uh, yes." Cooper still had some trouble getting the words out: "My daughter."

The shiny salesgirl 'awwed' before asking, "What's her name?"

"Marjorie." He smiled, feeling something like the stirrings of fatherly pride when he added, "She's five."

"Oh my gosh. That's such a cute age," the girl gushed. "They're all about the stuffed animals and the Barbies and the froufrou dress-up with, like, tiaras and nail polish and stuff." She asked him, "What's, like, her favorite thing to play with? Because, I guarantee we've got, like, four of them."

"Well, she's...five," Cooper hedged. He squirmed underneath the salesgirl's expectant gaze, and his fledgling pride soured in the pit of his stomach. It was such an innocent question, and any good father would know the answer without hesitation. Barbies Vs. Stuffed Animals, Pink Vs. Purple, Chocolate Vs. Vanilla; it was all important and he knew none of it. "I, uh, it's...well, I'm-" He stopped just short of breaking down and telling this perfect stranger his entire life story. Getting control of himself, he regrouped and decided on a new approach. "What are your big sellers?"

The salesgirl's face lit up. "Oh my gosh. So much." She walked two aisles over to a particularly pink and sparkly aisle, and pointed out each item. "We have Barbie, of course. Holiday Barbie, Ballerina Barbie, Double-jointed Gymnast Barbie." The salesgirl changed course. "Or, we have Bratz Dolls-"

"No." Cooper was new to fatherhood but he still had good instincts when it came to kids. "Those things look mean." And a little bit slutty, he thought.

"Okay." She took his comment in stride and kept going. "We also have Disney Princesses. Dolls, dress-up, blankets with their likeness."

Cooper's eyes lingered for a moment on a Belle doll - his light brown hair and Charlotte's olive-colored eyes - and wondered if Marjorie looked like that, and identified with that princess. Or maybe, it was Cinderella - Charlotte's blond hair with his blue eyes - that she favored, and looked up to. Or just maybe, he told himself, Marjorie could be a tomboy and she'd rather climb a tree than play with dolls. "No." He shook his head. "No princess dolls. What about stuffed animals?"

"We have, like, a hundred." The salesgirl directed him to the shelves lining the back wall. "We have the normal ones - like, teddy bears, bunnies, kitties - and the weird ones - like, bullfrogs, snakes, and dinosaurs. Really, whatever you want."

Cooper immediately perked up. "Do you have horses?"

"Oh, yeah. A couple." She walked over and plucked three right off the shelf. "Two stuffed animals, one Beanie Baby."

The Beanie Baby had a small tear around the tag, so Cooper dismissed it immediately. "May I?" he asked, taking hold of the two small horses. They were distinctly different; one was jet black with a long fringe mane, and the other was spotted brown and white with a kind face. "I'll take this one." Cooper picked the spotted one, going on nothing but a gut feeling. "It's friendly-looking, don't you think?"

"Uh, yeah. Totally." The salesgirl made her way over to the register and rang up his purchase. "Fifteen even," she announced.

Cooper chuffed out a little laugh as he dug into his wallet and handed over his blood money. Fifteen dollars for a stuffed horse was highway robbery, but it was a small price to pay if it made his daughter smile. "Thanks," he said, handing over the horse so it could be rolled in tissue paper and dropped into a bag. It wasn't pink or sparkly, but Cooper was proud of himself.

He thanked the salesgirl again, and made his way back to the elevators. He pressed the button for the seventh floor, nervous excitement building, and clutched tightly at the bag holding his gift. When he arrived at the floor, he exited out into a long sterile hallway. He passed the nurse's station, and room number after room number. Finally, he came upon Room 7032, but the door was ajar and no one was inside. Cooper quickly looped back around to the nurse's station.

"Excuse me." He caught the eye of a young nurse, and said, "I'm looking for Marjorie King - Room 7032 - and her mother, Charlotte King."

She looked him up and down, then asked, "Are you a visitor?"

"No. I mean, yes." Cooper shook his head and clarified, "I'm a doctor from Los Angeles, and I'm...well, I'm the father." When he realized that was getting easier to say out loud, he smiled and repeated himself, "I'm Marjorie's father."

"Oh, okay." The nurse's limited curiosity satisfied, she told him, "Your daughter is getting her portacath implanted right now, but I think your wife is sitting in the waiting room." She motioned to her right and said, "Go down the hall, and you'll dead-end into the waiting room."

Cooper gave a weak smile, pained by the thought of his daughter getting a piece of metal surgically implanted into her chest. "Thanks." He gripped the gift tighter and made his way down the hall. It really didn't register that he was about to come face-to-face with Charlotte until he turned the corner, and there she was.

Cooper couldn't see her face, but he knew it was her. Even after six years, he remembered the shape of her body and recognized it immediately. Charlotte was leaning all the way forward in her chair, bent at the waist, her head buried in her arms. He took another step toward her and smiled; it had always been a rare treat to catch her in jeans, a sweatshirt, and tennis shoes. She even had her hair - the same light blond shade he remembered - tucked up into a messy ponytail. Selfishly, he couldn't wait to look into her face and see how the years had treated her.

He took another step forward and stopped short. His brow furrowed when he noticed the jagged way her shoulders moved up and down. Cooper listened, but couldn't hear any sounds of crying. Not a single audible sniffle. Still, intuition told him that crying was exactly what she was doing. And probably for the first time since the diagnosis, if she was still the Charlotte King he remembered.

"Charlotte." He watched her startle, then slowly - almost in slow motion - look up to meet his gaze. When their eyes finally met, blue on green, Cooper couldn't help but smile; Charlotte wasn't wearing an ounce of make-up, her eyes were red and puffy from crying, cheeks flushed and tears still clinging to her eyelashes, but she still took his breath away. He did notice a few lines on her face that hadn't been there before, but they were the good kind; she'd been smiling a lot these last six years.

Cooper knew he should be angry. He knew he should be screaming and yelling, and demanding all sorts of answers. He'd gone through several drafts of what he wanted to say to her on the airplane, but now, he couldn't remember a single word of it. Charlotte was staring at him - big green eyes, slack-jawed, and frozen in shock - but it was the tears that did him in. He'd never been able to resist tears on that woman; she made crying, even the snotty kind, work for her. He'd be lying if he said, even six years on, there's wasn't still a part of him that responded to it and just wanted to kiss it better.

He settled for a tentative smile. "I came right away, hopped the first available flight." When Charlotte still didn't say anything, he got a little nervous and insecure; he recognized her in a heartbeat, but maybe she didn't recognize him. "It's me - Cooper." He scratched his cheek, over his scruffy facial hair, and told her, "I tried something new after you left. Let the old five-o-clock shadow grow out a little."

Truth was, it hadn't been much fun to shave without Charlotte perched on their bathroom counter, drowning in one of his over-sized shirts, legs wrapped around his waist, and carefully running the blade over his face; that had been their lazy Saturday morning thing, and Jordana had never quite been able to replicate it.

Without much warning, Charlotte's shell-shock gave-way and she was clearly overwhelmed by it all. She started crying again, openly this time; deep, gut-wrenching sobs that wracked her whole body and caused her to hide her face behind her hands. By the time she folded forward in her chair, Cooper was in the chair beside her and putting an arm around her shoulders.

"It's okay," he told her. "It's going to be okay." Cooper felt her shaking, and his heart ached for her. "Marjorie is going to beat this, I promise."

That finally got Charlotte's attention. She sniffled, loud and guttural, and said through her tears, "You've got a real pair to just waltz in here, and already be makin' promises you can't keep."

Cooper felt the twist of anger in his gut and withdrew his arm. "The only reason I wasn't here sooner is because you-" He stopped himself, took a series of slow deep breaths, and said, "I didn't come here to fight with you; this is about Marjorie. They'll be plenty of time for us to work out our own crap once she's healthy, and home with us."

"Home with us," Charlotte scoffed. "It's awfully presumptuous of you to think that just because you hopped a plane in some grand gesture, you're suddenly gonna get to play daddy like you didn't just ignore the first six years of her existence."

"I didn't ignore anything." His temper flared and it took all his willpower not to shout. "My child was stolen from me."

Charlotte lit into him. "Bullshit," she called. "I left a message sayin' I was pregnant. You could've called, you could've written, you could've sent a damned Christmas card once a year."

"I'm Jewish," he retorted facetiously. Then, he stopped cold, and questioned her, "Wait. What message?"

Cooper watched Charlotte's face drain of any remaining color and her eyes go wide. "You mean-" She gaped at him. "You didn't-" Charlotte desperately searched his face. "I left a message. I left a message and you never-" A trembling hand came up to cover her mouth. "Oh my God." Charlotte's eyes brimmed with tears. "I left a message, and you never-"

He grimaced, his own eyes pricked with tears. "Please, Charlotte," he appealed to her, his voice raspy. "Please tell me I didn't lose my daughter's first five years because you left a message I never got, and you were too proud to try a second time."

Charlotte choked back a sob, licking her lips to distract from the fact that they were quivering. "I can't," she whispered, holding his gaze until the tears finally escaped, and rolled down her cheeks. She reached out and grabbed hold of his arm, trimmed fingernails digging into his skin. Charlotte swallowed a sob and started to say something, but they were interrupted first.

The double doors to the operating room swung open. A young surgical intern walked right up them, and confirmed, "Marjorie King's parents?"

"Yes." Cooper jumped to his feet, obviously embracing his new role as an overanxious father. "How is she? Did she tolerate the procedure alright?"

"She's a little rock star," the intern assured them with a smile. "She sailed through with no trouble; she's already awake from the anesthesia and asking what's for dinner." Cooper smiled when he heard that; apparently his daughter was one tough cookie. "Really, mom," the intern said, reaching out and touching Charlotte arm. "She's just fine, nothing to warrant the waterworks."

Charlotte flushed when she realized she was still crying. She dragged both hands underneath her eyes to wipe away the tears. "Thanks." She forced a smile and asked, "So, uh, when will she be transported back to her room?"

"Oh, any minute now."

After the intern had turned and disappeared back through the double doors, Charlotte exhaled a nervous breath. "God," she lamented, wiping at her tear-streaked face. "I need to pull it together. I don't want Marjorie to see me like this, all weak and weepy."

Cooper gazed at Charlotte as she tried to fix herself up. It wasn't vanity like Cooper was used to seeing, but rather, an attempt to appear strong for their daughter. God, he'd missed strong women. "You're not weak or weepy," he told her. "You're just..." He smiled, giving a little one-shouldered shrug. "You're a mom."

The corners of Charlotte's lips quirked upward. "I've been a momma for a while now. Nothing new there."

"It's new to me," he contended, quick to add, "It looks good on you, though; motherhood."

She looked down, breaking his intense gaze. "What can I say, I was blessed with a great kid."

Cooper nodded and turned abruptly serious. "There's no playbook for this, Charlotte. We have a little girl I've never met and she's sick." He tried to impress upon her. "We're both doctors here. We both know the statistics; Marjorie has a good ninety-four percent chance of beating this. The odds are in her favor and you're her mom, so I'm sure she's a force to be reckoned with." Cooper looked deep into her eyes and hoped she could see he meant every word of this. "But this is going to be a long, hard road. She's going to need chemo treatments, steroid injections, and a bunch of procedures that no little girl should ever have to endure." He concluded with a weak smile, "I know you're tough as nails but you're going to need support, and I'm volunteering. I'm ready, Charlotte – hell, I've been ready – to be a good father. I'm here and I'm all-in; whatever Marjorie needs because she's not just your little girl. She's mine and I already love her."

Charlotte stared at him, probably trying to gauge his level of sincerity. Finally, she handed down her decision: "I appreciate that. Really, I do." She was quick to add, "But Marjorie's world has already been turned upside down. I just can't ask her to process much more, especially when 'daddy' is such a foreign concept for her."

"We can take it slow," he promised. "I can introduce myself as Dr. Cooper and we'll get to know each other first; keep it very relaxed and non-threatening." He appealed to her, "Please, Charlotte. I won't force anything. I just want to meet my daughter."

He expected a serious answer, so it threw him when she asked, "What's that?"

"What's what?" When Cooper realized she was pointing to the bag in his hand, he exclaimed, "Oh that!" He smiled. "It's a stuffed horse I bought for Marjorie. I thought it might make her smile." Cooper extended the bag to Charlotte – a peace offering of sorts – and said, "You can go ahead and give it to her, if you want."

Charlotte smiled at him; the first real smile he'd seen from her. "Give it to her yourself." She clearly gave the gesture more weight than some prepared speech. "Visiting hours start at ten tomorrow morning." Her smile turned into a smirk, and she couldn't resist adding, "Dr. Cooper. "

**...TBC...**

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A/N: I love hearing everyone's thoughts and opinions about my story. It doesn't matter if we're in total disagreement; I want to hear from you. That being said, I draw the line at name-calling. It's not constructive or helpful. And I'll be honest with you: I know *exactly* where this story is going, and we're not even halfway. There's a lot of story left to be told - some you'll love, some you'll hate, and some you'll never see coming - but I'm not going to rush it. I just want to tell my story, and hopefully, entertain a few people along the way.

Finally, a big 'thank you' to everyone who's kept their comments civil, and to my awesome beta 'SomewhereApart' for keeping me focused!


	10. Visiting Hours

**Chapter Ten: Visiting Hours**

Stepping off the elevator at exactly 9:52 the next morning, Cooper knew he should be nervous. Meeting an older child for the first time would turn anyone into a nervous wreck. Nevermind that Marjorie was a sick child that needed extra love and care. And certainly, over the years, Cooper had seen his fair share of well-meaning parents crack underneath the pressure of having to care for a seriously ill child. However, there was something deep inside him - a kind of instinct, maybe - that told him everything would be alright; he would meet his daughter and it was going to be amazing.

The door to Room 7032 was leaned closed, so Cooper reached out, palm flat against the door, and pushed it open. His heart immediately buckled at the precious sight in front of him; Charlotte, looking beautiful in a white tank top and sweats, was fast asleep in the over-sized hospital bed. Their daughter - all mussed blond hair and big blue eyes - was curled up beside her, obviously awake, but content to stay snuggled up in bed. The little girl turned and looked right at him. She blinked those baby blue eyes, pushed hair out of her face, and said in a small voice, "Hi."

Cooper was transfixed in the doorway, but he managed a friendly smile. "Hi, there." He was in awe. Speechless, really. He'd thought he was prepared to meet his daughter, but this was so much more than he ever could've imagined; this was a real living, breathing five-year-old with a sweet, angelic face, and a pair of messy pigtails she'd obviously spent the night on.

The little girl propped herself up on her elbow, her brow furrowing ever-so-slightly as she inquired, "Are you 'nother one of my doctors?" She protectively curled her right arm - the one with multiple IVs and catheter lines sticking out of it - up against her chest, and warned him, "Cuz I'll scream an' wake my momma if you've got any needles. I swear I will."

"Oh, no… no, honey." Cooper took a hurried step inside the room, and assured her, "I don't have any needles. Cross my heart." He used his finger to draw an 'x' across his chest, and belatedly realized he probably should've led with the gift; the gift would've gotten him through the door without setting off a panic. "My name is Dr. Cooper, and I'm a friend of your momma's." The little girl quirked an eyebrow - a classic Charlotte King look if he'd ever seen one - and waited for him to prove it. He smiled at the unspoken challenge and pulled a chair up to the child's bedside, careful not to wake Charlotte who still asleep on the other side. "Your momma is Dr. Charlotte King. She was born and raised in Monroeville, Alabama. She has two brothers, Duke and Landry." He smiled at the little girl and concluded, "And she named you, Miss Marjorie, after the horse she loved more than anything in the whole wide world."

Marjorie's tiny hackles lowered and she grinned at him. "Y'know where my middle name came from?" She prompted at him, "Huh? Do ya?"

"Hmm," Cooper made a show of tapping his finger against his cheek. "Let me guess...Could it be Jean Louise from 'To Kill A Mockingbird'?"

"Yep!" The little girl's excitement propelled her up into a sitting position, hesitating only slightly when her IV pinched her arm. "This is so neat," she exclaimed, quickly lowering her voice when Cooper held a finger up in front of his lips. "This is so neat," she repeated, using a loud stage whisper that was damn-near adorable. "Did my momma tell you all this, and how come I've never met you before?"

"That's a good question, honey." It really was, and Cooper wished he had a good answer for her. Unfortunately, he didn't, so he tried to distract the little girl. "Hey, I brought you a super cool present." Both his hands went behind his back, and he goaded her, "Pick a hand, munchkin."

Marjorie grinned. "That one," she said, using her left, uninhibited hand to point to his right.

She guessed correctly, but Cooper switched the bag into his other hand. "Nope," he lied, mimicking a buzzer. "Try again."

"That one," she giggled, now motioning to his left.

"Oops, made you look." He passed the bag back into his original hand, then presented it to the girl with a flourish. "Here you go," he told her. "I got you a brown paper bag. Hope you like it."

Marjorie ripped through the tissue paper, laughing. "No, you didn't." She reached right into the bag, nevermind her bad arm at a time like this, and pulled out the stuffed horse. "Aww, look. It's a horse, all cute and spotted like Possum, 'cept this horse has a lil' button for a nose."

Cooper wasn't sure which was a better high; putting a smile on his daughter's face for the first time or hearing that sweet, twangy Southern Alabama accent. It was almost too much, but at the same time, he wouldn't have it any other way; he'd missed that accent somethin' fierce. "You have a possum?" he questioned.

"Yep," she told him, hugging the stuffed animal against her chest. "Possum, my horse."

"Oh," he laughed, somewhat relieved and then impressed. "You have your own horse?" When Marjorie gave an enthusiastic nod, he continued, "Wow. That's neat-o. Can you ride him all by yourself?"

"'Course," she told him, making a face like that was an utterly ridiculous question. "He's been my horse since forever." She clarified, "Since I was three."

Cooper humored her. "Well, that was _forever _ago," he embellished.

Marjorie explored the stuffed animal's button nose, then looked up at him, and said, "Thank you, Dr. Cooper. She's really cute and soft, and I like 'er a lot."

Honestly, that caught him off-guard. Cooper had been a Pediatrician for more years than he'd care to admit, and more and more, manners were becoming a thing of the past. It was a rare occurrence to find a kid with good manners, and yet he'd managed to find one in his own daughter. "You're very welcome," he told her, meaning it with his whole heart. "I'm glad you like him-"

"Her."

"Oh, okay." Cooper chuckled, and quickly corrected himself, "I'm glad you like _her_."

"I do." Marjorie turned toward Charlotte, and for a split second, Cooper was afraid she was going to wake her mother to show off her new toy. Fortunately, as she flipped over her pillow and rooted around in the bed sheets, it became obvious that she was looking for something. A few seconds later, she located the item in question and presented it to Cooper. "This is Teddy." She held up a worn, raggedy brown bear that had definitely seen better days. "I've had him since I was a lil' baby."

"Well, hello, Teddy." Cooper reached out and grasped the animal's furry paw, and shook it. "My name is Dr. Cooper. It's very nice to meet you."

"He says 'Nice to meet you, too' and 'Thanks for my new friend'," Marjorie informed him with the most serious expression a little girl could muster.

"Oh, you're welcome, Teddy." Cooper had played this game enough times to know the most important rule: always address the stuffed animals directly. "I'm glad you like your new friend. I'm just sorry I didn't bring Marjorie another bear, so you guys could be brother and sister."

Marjorie broke character long enough to tell him, "Oh, don't be sorry 'bout that. Teddy already has lots of family back home."

"Really?"

"Yeah, huh," she confirmed, nodding her head. Cooper watched the way her pigtails bounced around her shoulders, and it made him smile. She really was too precious for words. "Teddy already has a bunch of brothers and sisters, a momma, even a wife an' kids."

Cooper was so caught up in the cuteness of it all that he didn't realize she'd omitted 'father' from her structured bear family. "Awesome," he exclaimed. "Do they all have names?"

"Yep!" Marjorie leaned forward, clearly eager to rattle them all off. "His sisters are Maple and Fudge, his brothers are Licorice and Harvey. His momma is Momma, 'course." She sucked in a breath and continued, "His wife is Buttercup, and his babies are Milstead and Ralph."

"Wow," Cooper chuckled. "That's quite the family. You must have a lot of stuffed animals."

"No, not really," the little girl hedged. "My friend Allison has a lot more." Marjorie swept her bangs away from her face, then pursed her lips when her hair fell right back down in front of her eyes. She tried again, but ended up grimacing in pain. "Dr. Cooper," she huffed, her brow furrowing. "Can you help me?"

"Of course, honey." Cooper was on his feet and hovering within seconds. "What do you need?"

"It's my hair." Marjorie cradled her IV-riddled arm, and pouted, "I'd fix it myself, but my needles pinch when I move 'em around too much."

"Oh…Okay. What exactly…" Cooper was at a total loss when Marjorie angled around and presented him with the back of her head. The last time Cooper had fixed a little girl's hair, the girl had actually been a doll, and he'd been about four-years-old. "Well, I guess I should…free it, first." Cooper pulled out the two ponytails, trying to be as gentle as possible. Marjorie's sunny blond hair was softer than silk, but a bit tangled as it tumbled down just below shoulder-length. "So, um, do you want one ponytail or two ponytails?"

The little girl hugged both her stuffed animals and decided, "I wanna French braid."

"A French braid?" Cooper grimaced. "Are you sure?"

Marjorie nodded her head in the affirmative, and intoned, "Uh huh."

"Okay, I'll, uh…I'll give it my best shot." Cooper carefully combed his fingers through the girl's hair to vanish the tangles, and then divided it into three parts; that much he knew. "Do you have any super-secret tips for me?" he asked Marjorie, only half-joking because he could really use some guidance. "Anything special I need to know about French braids?"

"My momma's really good at 'em."

Cooper chuffed out a laugh. "Yeah, I bet she is." He glanced over at Charlotte's still-sleeping form, breathing deep and peaceful, and ventured, "I guess your momma's real tired, huh?"

"Yeah." Marjorie crossed her legs and nuzzled her face against her lovies. "We drove here all night the night-before-last." The little girl added, "And then, momma and I were up real late last night 'cause my chest hurt."

Cooper halted work on his lopsided and decidedly un-French braid. The pediatrician in him wanted to ask all sorts of follow-up questions and examine the site, but at the same time, Cooper didn't want Marjorie to associate him with anything that hurt. So, with that in mind, he tried to keep his questions casual and playful. "Well, that doesn't sound like any fun." He went back to work on her hair, and decided to play dumb just a little bit. "Why do you think your chest hurt so much?"

"'Cause I got surgery yesterday, and the doctors put a port under my skin." Marjorie abruptly turned her head to look at Cooper, causing him to nearly drop his braid. "D'ya wanna see it?" She screwed up her face, but there was also an underlying sense of pride. She was definitely the type of kid that bragged on cool scars, he realized. And he barely had time to get a ponytail holder onto his braid before Marjorie was turning around, and using her free hand to tug down one shoulder of her gown. "See right there?" She didn't dare touch it, but she pointed out the clean surgical incision – not infected, thank God – and the small bump beneath her skin that was the actual port. "It'll help me get the good medicine, so I can fight the stupid, icky cancer."

"Marjorie Louise," Charlotte groused out-of-nowhere, her eyes still closed. "You know how I feel 'bout that word."

"But momma," the little girl whined. "It _is_ stupid."

Cooper watched Charlotte let loose a cat-like stretch, stifling a yawn. When she opened her eyes, probably intent on having another word with her daughter, she stopped short when she saw him right there. Her light green eyes went wide and her mouth dropped open into a little 'o' of surprise. "Cooper." Charlotte grabbed hold of the sheet and pulled it up to cover the bust of her tank top; no bra. "What time is it?"

He smiled at her modesty; that was certainly a new development. "Probably around ten-thirty."

"Oh, good Lord." Charlotte sat up rather abruptly. "I can't believe I went and overslept." She dragged a hand through her own mussed blond hair, but her concern was for Marjorie. "We need to get you dressed and fed," she told her daughter. "Dr. Sydney is coming at eleven to start your chemotherapy."

Marjorie – the eternal optimist, it seemed – brightened, and asked her momma, "What's for breakfast?"

"More like lunch," Cooper told the little girl with a wink.

Charlotte's ghost of a smile didn't escape his attention, but still, she leapt into action. Pushing back the bed covers, Charlotte was careful to fold her arms over her chest as she padded across the cold hospital room. She opened the door to a tiny closet – tiny clothes hanging inside – and asked her daughter, "What do you wanna wear today?"

Marjorie was quiet and thoughtful while she made her decision. "Frog dress," she told her mother, before leaning in and telling Cooper, "It's my favorite."

He watched Charlotte return to the bed holding a green-and-pink striped dress with a little frog caricature on it, and a clean pair of underwear. Before she started to help her daughter undress – an arduous task that would require disconnecting quite a few IV lines – Charlotte picked up the in-house phone, and ordered Marjorie's meal be sent up to the room. When she hung up, she turned to her daughter, but hesitated for a split second; she'd finally noticed the misshapen braid hanging down her back. "What in the world?" she asked, reaching out to touch one of its many bumps. It was probably more bump than braid.

Cooper had the good sense to look little embarrassed, but Marjorie was happy and totally oblivious. "Dr. Cooper did it for me," the little girl announced.

"Oh, he did, did he?" Charlotte beamed a full-fledged smile and it was automatic; Cooper found himself smiling right back.

"Yeah," he admitted, chuckling a bit. "Not terrible for my first French braid, huh?"

"I've certainly seen worse," she conceded, then prompted her daughter, "Did you say 'Thank You' to Dr. Cooper?"

Marjorie obediently intoned, "Thank you, Dr. Cooper."

"You're very welcome."

A plump middle-aged nurse knocked on the door frame, and announced, "I see everybody's awake and moving in the right direction." She stepped into the room and focused her attention onto Marjorie. "How are you feeling this morning, sweetie?" The nurse flipped open her chart to take down the little girl's current vitals, but she stopped short. "I'm sorry, sir," she told Cooper. "It's hospital policy for the room to be family-only during any physical exams."

"Oh." He hesitated, his gaze shifting from Charlotte to Marjorie, and then back to Charlotte. Her expression clearly showed she was conflicted, but still, she didn't look like she was going to speak up for him. With Marjorie in the room, he had no choice but to say, "Well, uh, I guess…I guess I'll go, then."

His own emotions must've been written across his face, because as he turned to leave, he heard Charlotte call out, "Coop, wait." He turned back around and saw her fragile conciliatory smile. "You're welcome to come back tomorrow." Charlotte deferred to their daughter, "Would you like that – if Dr. Cooper came again tomorrow?" Marjorie grinned and vigorously nodded her head, prompting her to say, "That's a ringin' endorsement, if I ever did see one."

Visiting hours weren't nearly enough, but Cooper told himself it was a good start; they could build on that. "Alright, then, I guess I'll see you tomorrow," he told Marjorie with a fond, lingering smile. He couldn't resist adding, deeply heartfelt, "Y'know, I'm really happy I met you."

Marjorie smiled at him – the kind of smile that would turn any father to mush – and replied, "Me too."

**...TBC...**

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A/N: Doesn't that just make you go all warm and fuzzy inside? REVIEW so I know I'm not the only one!


	11. Olive Branch

**Chapter Eleven: Olive Branch**

Stretched out across the bed in his Philadelphia hotel room, Cooper gushed into the cell phone, "She's perfect - beyond perfect, actually. She's smart and inquisitive, and precocious as hell. And sweet, too. She has these amazing, captivating blue eyes – just about the only thing she got from me, I think – , and this bright, sunny smile that just…God, it just gets you. One smile and you're gone. You just melt."

Violet's laughter came over the line, gentle and teasing. "You've only spent thirty minutes with that little girl, and she already has you wrapped around her little finger."

"I can't help it," he insisted. "I laid eyes on her and that was it – instant love, instant connection. Natural. I knew she was mine. I could feel it, and it's the most incredible feeling." Cooper closed his eyes and let the tidal waves of emotion roll over him. "I can't believe I let Jordana convince me I didn't need children to be happy. Because I do, Violet. I need to be a father, and I need Marjorie. She's the piece that's been missing all these years; I just didn't know it until now."

"Well, I could've told you that," Violet asserted, and there's an instant edge to her voice. "Don't get me wrong; Jordana had every right to decide she didn't want children. It's her body and I respect that – I felt the same way until I had Lucas – , but she never cared how it affected you. It was never a sit-down discussion; she just made the decision for the both of you."

Cooper groaned and flopped back against his pillow. "Violet, come on." He tried to reason with her, "For once, this isn't about Jordy. This is about my beautiful daughter, who," he added, his tone pitching up, "I'd like to continue bragging on, if that's alright with you."

Violet chuffed out a small laugh. "You're right. I'm sorry." She took a deep breath and promised him, "No more Jordana talk. I want you to enjoy this, so brag away. I'm listening."

"Thank you," he chuckled. Propping a pillow up against the headrest, he leaned back, smiled, and continued, "Now, where was I? Have I told you – I mean, really told you – how cute my daughter is?"

"Yeah, you have. A couple of times," Violet assured him, amused. "But come on, Coop. Look at her parents. Of course she's good-looking."

"I wish I could take credit for it," Cooper told her, shifting the phone to his other ear. "But she's all Charlotte, every inch of her."

"She has your eyes," Violet pointed out. "That's something."

"But it's Charlotte's fire behind those eyes; it's all Charlotte."

"Well," she trailed off, searching for just the right thing to say. "You need to spend more time with her; bring out the Freedman. I'm sure it's hiding in there somewhere."

Cooper smiled. "Yeah, maybe."

"And for God's sake, phase out the accent."

"No way." Cooper shook his head. He couldn't imagine wanting to get rid of that accent. Not only was it part of Marjorie's sweet personality, but it was cute as hell. "I love her lil' twang," he said, mimicking the little girl's southern accent as best he could. "It's adorable."

"You do realize that all the important women in your life – Jordana, Charlotte, Marjorie – all have Southern accents, don't you?"

Cooper wrinkled his nose and argued, "You're a woman in my life – the most consistent one, I might add – and you don't have an accent."

"Well, clearly, I'm in a category all my own," Violet rejoined, light and teasing.

"Clearly," he laughed. "And thank God for that, because I love you, I understand you, I always know where we stand." Cooper adjusted the phone against his ear and admitted, "Everyone else is so complicated." He straightened up and continued, "You know how I feel? I feel like…" He heaved a heavy sigh, his brow furrowing ever-so-slightly, and tried to explain, "I feel like I'm standing in the middle of an emotional minefield, and I don't know which way to step. One wrong move and everything will blow up in my face."

"That's perfectly legitimate," she assured him, always at the ready to validate his feelings. "You're finally getting closure in your relationship with Jordana when Charlotte - really, the one that got away - comes back into your life with your sick illegitimate daughter-"

"Don't call Marjorie that," he cut in, surprised by the sudden rush of resentment the label called up in him. Marjorie King wasn't illegitimate anything.

Violet apologized, then offered a compromise, "Lovechild, maybe?"

Cooper didn't much like that label either, but he had to admit it was pretty accurate. His relationship with Charlotte had run hot and cold, but he'd always loved her, and they'd created their daughter in a spontaneous expression of that love. "Oh, this is such a mess," he confessed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I don't know what to do." He appealed to Violet, half-joking, "Come on. I really need some advice. Tell me what to do here."

"I can't answer that for you," she told him, and Cooper could've sworn he'd heard the clink of a martini glass in the background. "It's such a complicated situation; made even more complicated by the fact that Marjorie is sick."

Cooper's pained grimace was automatic. "Life has such a cruel sense of humor. I finally get the little girl I've always wanted – a sweet, beautiful little girl – and she's fighting for her life." He admitted, "And in my selfish heart, I can't even say I'm sorry she's sick, because her diagnosis is what got her in my life in the first place." Cooper closed his eyes, blew air out of pursed lips, and felt his stomach twist into knots. "I just- I just need her to get better, so we can have more time together. I can't believe I'm so worried about a little girl I've known for all of thirty minutes, but... I am. I really am."

"Oh, Cooper," Violet gently admonished him. "Marjorie will be fine. If she's as much like Charlotte as you say she is, she's bound to be one tough kid. You're going to have plenty of time to play daddy; speaking of which, should I tell Lucas you're going to miss his basketball game?"

"Aw, crap. I forgot about that." Cooper had never missed one of Lucas' games, and he hated to start now. The shy seven-year-old had been, for all intents and purposes, his surrogate child. Only now, he had a real child who needed him a whole hell of a lot more. "Tell him Uncle Coop is sorry, and when I get back into town, I'll make it up to him somehow."

Violet pressed him, "When exactly are you coming back?" She added, "Because Sam and Addison are eventually going to start asking questions about your 'family emergency'."

"First of all," Cooper asserted. "It _is_ a family emergency. Aside from my parents, Marjorie is the only real family I have." He was quick to add, "And second of all, just go ahead and tell everyone the truth. I'm not ashamed or embarrassed. I'm proud I have a daughter – hell, I'm excited."

Violet obviously hadn't gotten past the first part of his instructions when she exclaimed, "Wait. What are you going to tell your parents? Marjorie is their first and only grandchild."

"I'm not telling them anything." Cooper's tone hardened and he warned her, "And you won't either, Violet." When she started to object, he buckled down and held his ground. "My parents are in their eighties," he told her. "They've already watched a child die from heart disease. I'm not about to introduce them to their first grandchild in the pediatric oncology ward of a hospital." Cooper grimaced. "Forty-something years later, my mother still can't talk about Andy without getting emotional, so I think – no, I know – I know this would devastate her." He shook his head and concluded, "They can meet Marjorie once she's in remission and doing well, and besides, right now, Marjorie doesn't even know who I am. She thinks I'm 'Dr. Cooper, a friend of her Momma's'."

"How long is that going to last?"

"Until her bat mitzvah, maybe?" he joked, adding, "Although, I'm guessing the odds of Charlotte having converted to Judaism and immersed my daughter in that religion are-"

Violet finished his sentence, "Not very likely."

"Well, now we're definitely not calling my parents," Cooper joked. "My father would have a stroke and my mother would cry, and my Great Aunt Ester would fly down here and make a scene." He prompted her, teasing, "And I know you remember my Great Aunt Ester."

"Oh, God," Violet intoned, and he could almost hear the shudder in her voice. "I made _one_ inappropriate joke about matzah balls during a Seder dinner eleven years ago, and she still thinks I'm the devil."

Cooper chuckled, "Actually, she thinks you're a-" He stopped short when the phone in his room started to ring. "Uh, hold on a minute." Cooper laid his cell down on the bed and reached across to the bedside table. He answered the room phone with a hesitant, "Hello?"

"Cooper?"

He knew that voice, and instantly feared the worst. "Charlotte, what's wrong? Is Marjorie okay?"

"What? No, she's fine," Charlotte quickly assured him, sounding a little out of sorts. "I mean, all things considered, she did real well with the first treatment." He could hear the thinly-veiled stress permeating her voice. "They hooked her up 'bout two hours after you left and-"

"Why the delay?"

In the background, Cooper heard the hospital intercom page someone but it abruptly went quiet; he guessed that Charlotte had held her hand up in front of the mouthpiece to block out the noise. Then, when it had passed, she told him, "The nurses needed to numb her port before they could start chemo, and the topical creme just took a good two hours to take effect."

Cooper was relieved to hear that nothing had actually gone wrong. "How did Marjorie handle having her port accessed for the first time?" That had been one of his biggest concerns all day long; some kids took it in stride, but for others, it was incredibly traumatic. "Did she fight the nurses at all?"

"She fought a little," she said, and Cooper could tell she was downplaying it. "But once she calmed down, she took the treatment like a lil' trooper. While they had her hooked up, she watched a movie and ate anti-nausea popsicles, and even managed to keep from tossin' her cookies for a good four hours afterward."

Cooper grimaced, pained. "How bad was the vomiting?"

"Like your run-of-the-mill stomach flu." She sighed – an exhausted sigh, if he'd ever heard one – and said, "I finally got her down 'round ten and asleep by eleven-thirty."

That caught Cooper's attention and made him glance at the clock. Sure enough, it was almost midnight. "Well, thank you for the update," he told her, and he genuinely meant it. "I was a little worried, but I didn't expect to hear from you tonight, so thank you."

Charlotte's whole tone shifted into something he couldn't quite identify. "That's actually the reason I tracked you down and called; this mornin' was all sorts of awkward and I feel like, if you wanna keep spending time with Marjorie, you and I need to sit down and discuss this mess, and work out some sorta game plan movin' forward. We're the parents; it's not fair to Marjorie if we're just flyin' by the seat of our pants here."

"I-I, yes, absolutely," he stammered, surprised that Charlotte had initiated this much-needed conversation. "We definitely have a lot to discuss."

"Can you meet me?"

Cooper's eyes widened. "Right now?"

"Well, obviously, I don't wanna have this conversation in front of Marjorie, and since she's asleep right now, I can step away for a few minutes." Charlotte quickly backtracked, "Unless you're too tired-"

"No, no. I'm fine." Cooper reassured her, "I'm still on L.A. time, so it only feels like nine." He stood up and started searching for his shoes. "Where do you want to meet?"

"The hospital cafeteria is open twenty-four hours." She asked him, hesitantly, "Can we meet there in fifteen?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," Cooper said, spotting his sneakers peeking out from underneath the bed. He'd have to hurry, but he could make it. "Fifteen minutes in the cafeteria," he confirmed, and then tried to joke, "I'll buy you a cup of stale coffee."

Charlotte gave him a small courtesy laugh. "Alright, see you in a few."

As soon as she hung up the phone, Cooper lunged for his cell phone. He put it to his ear and asked, "Violet?"

"Still here," she intoned, sounding a little annoyed at being left hanging for so long.

"Sorry," he apologized, toeing on his shoes. "That was Charlotte. She wants to meet to talk about everything; I've gotta run."

Violet's surprise and disbelief was obvious. "Charlotte King - our Charlotte King - wants to have an open discussion about feelings and intentions?"

Cooper couldn't help but smile, almost excited. "Six years is a long time. People change, I guess."

They said their goodbyes and Cooper quickly hung up the phone. After grabbing his wallet and key card, he's out the door and on his way to the hospital less than thirty seconds later.

**...TBC...**

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A/N: I love reading everyone's thoughts and opinions, and I'd like to address some anonymous reviews:

1.) The little girl in this story is Marjorie Louise King. Not Carling. Not Margaret.

2.) Yes, I realize that someone has started another leukemia kid story. We're in a medical fandom. It was bound to happen, and I wish her (and the real Carling) all the luck.

3.) Marjorie is smart for her age - very verbal - but she's no child prodigy. She can't read yet. She can barely tie her own shoes. In other words, she's a normal kid with normal strengths and weaknesses.

4.) When a child is seriously ill, there's a bunch of dedicated people (doctors, nurses, psychologists, childlife specialists, etc.) that help the child understand what's going on inside their body. So, if Marjorie were to get a port, for example, that would be explained to her level of understanding.

5.) Finally, I have zero influence over SomewhereApart's story. Zero.

6.) And because I have zero influence over SomewhereApart's story, any reviews SOLELY about her story will be deleted.

Have I answered everyone's questions? If not, feel free to PM me and ask away. :-) And please, don't forget to REVIEW...


	12. Comfortable Silences

**Chapter Twelve: Comfortable Silences**

The hospital cafeteria was damn-near deserted by the late hour. Cooper had no trouble spotting Charlotte right away; her sunny blonde hair and pink t-shirt was a shock of badly-needed color in the sea of perfunctory beige. As he approached her from behind, Cooper wondered when Charlotte had started wearing pink. The whole situation – pink shirt included – felt surreal to him.

"Hey." Cooper touched her shoulder from behind, making her startle and jump.

Charlotte whipped around, scowling, hand pressed against her heart. "Damn it. You scared me half to death," she accused, a little breathless.

"Sorry." He slid into the booth next to her and noticed she'd already gotten them some coffee. He nodded to the Styrofoam cup nearest to him and asked, "One of those for me?"

"Milk, cream, and enough sugar to wake the dead," she confirmed.

The cup stopped inches from Cooper's lips. He'd been married to Jordana a little over five years. Granted, they'd been divorcing for almost two of them, but still, she'd never once remembered how he took his coffee; it seemed Charlotte had never forgotten. "Thanks," he murmured, drowning his revelation in a long, drawn out sip. It was just right.

As he nursed his coffee, Cooper studied Charlotte out of the corner of his eye. She was dressed in jeans, her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, and that damned pink t-shirt. When he looked closer, the cruel irony wasn't lost on him; it was a t-shirt commemorating a marathon she'd run in the fight against cancer two years before. In honor of Big Daddy, no doubt – and now, unfortunately, her own daughter.

"So," Cooper ventured, searching for just the right words. "I guess, to start from the beginning, I don't even know Marjorie's full diagnosis."

"Early stages of ALL," she told him, grimacing ever-so-slightly; this was obviously still a painful reality for her to find herself in. "But the prognosis is good. Her doctors are optimistic that she'll respond quickly to the chemotherapy."

Something loosened in Cooper's chest and he exhaled, "That's wonderful." He smiled, his hands rubbing over his face to ease the tension. "That's such an enormous relief."

"Before I forget, this is for you." Charlotte extended a laminated, color-coded wristband to him and explained, "All the parents wear one." She held up her own wrist – I.D. band attached – to demonstrate. "This will get you past the nursing station after visiting hours."

Cooper was surprised. "Thank you." He accepted it and turned it over in his hands; it had Marjorie's full name and patient I.D. number typed onto it. He had to ask, concerned, "Won't Marjorie wonder why I'm wearing this?"

"She might recognize her own name," Charlotte conceded. "Just tell her it's written there 'cause you're there to visit her, and she won't question it."

He nodded. "Thanks." Cooper attached the wristband. It was more than a little snug, but if it allowed him to see more of his daughter, he'd gladly tolerate the chaffing. In the interest of being perfectly clear, he asked, "So, can I assume I'm allowed to see Marjorie whenever I want now?"

"Within reason," she hedged, and he could tell she was choosing her words very carefully. "I'm well-aware of the fact you never signed away your parental rights to her. Legally, you have every right to be in her life." Charlotte shifted uncomfortably, shoulders tense. "If I keep you from seein' her, you could file for partial custody, and I just don't have the energy to fight you right now." She took a deep breath and concluded, "So, yes. You're allowed to see Marjorie, but please, she's sick-"

"I'll be respectful," Cooper promised, solemn. "I'd never hurt her."

Charlotte scrutinized him and decided, "I believe that."

"I hope you do." He smiled at her. "And I hope we can, maybe, be friends – or at least, friendly?" He added, "For Marjorie's sake." Cooper went one step further and said, "Because, no matter what happens, we're still her parents. We need to work together and support each other, and support Marjorie. And when this is all over, we'll need to work out custody and I hope it can stay amicable." He held up his wristband and told her, "We're certainly off to an amicable start."

She immediately tensed when she heard the word 'custody' come out of his mouth. "What are, uh, your thoughts on custody?" she fished, and Cooper saw the cageyness in her posture. He didn't blame her, though; she'd had Marjorie all to herself for six years, and wasn't the least bit used to sharing.

"I haven't really given it much thought." And that was the God's honest truth, but he could tell that Charlotte wanted a real answer, so he said, "Off the top of my head, it might make sense for Marjorie to spend the school year with you, and the holidays and the summer with me."

"In Los Angeles," she supplied, her voice flinty. "Thousands of miles away." She pressed him, "A tiny five-year-old without her momma for two whole months?" Adding, demanding rather, "And what, I'm supposed to miss every holiday with my child?"

Cooper realized his mistake and tried to backtrack, "It was just an idea." He held up his hands in mock surrender. "I'm not the bad guy here, Charlotte. I'm flexible. All I want is equal time with my daughter. I'll leave the details up to you – or better yet, let's just set them aside until Marjorie is healthy."

Charlotte saw the reason in that and deflated. She reluctantly nodded. "You're right." She managed a weak smile, picking at the corner of the table, and said, "I'm sorry I jumped all over you." She sighed. "I'm just stressed and on-edge, and-"

"Not used to sharing," he supplied, making her laugh.

"And that," she admitted.

Cooper smiled when the slightest smile graced her face. "Well, I promise I'm not here to cause trouble. I just want to help in any way I can; physical, emotional, even financial support."

A frown creased Charlotte's face and she told him very clearly, "If I wanted your money, I would've filed for child support payments a long time ago." Her pride seemingly wounded, she snapped defensively, "I do very well for us. I don't need any help providin' for my daughter."

"Our daughter," he corrected, and imagined it wouldn't be the last time he needed to make that important distinction. "She's our daughter and I want to contribute." Cooper saw her opening her mouth to object and he held up his hand to silence her. "Just hear me out, Charlotte." He gathered his thoughts and tried to reason with her. "Marjorie's medical bills are going to be in the thousands of dollars – hell, maybe the hundreds of thousands – and I can't offer much, but I can offer some." He appealed to her, trying to keep his tone non-threatening, "Just let me help."

"I have good insurance."

"C'mon," he pled with her, just short of whining now. "I've missed prenatal bills, hospital bills, doctors bills, dental bills – hell, I've never even paid for a ballet lesson."

Charlotte smiled. "Rock climbing, piano, and movement, actually."

Cooper looked at her, unimpressed. "What the hell is 'movement'?"

"It's what they call gymnastics nowadays." She made a face and told him, just between the two of them, "Yeah, I thought it was stupid, too."

"That's ridiculous," he told her, grinning. "What's wrong with just calling it gymnastics?"

She laughed now, admitting, "I've got no excuse for it. That's just what they call now – or at the very least, that's what it's called at the youth center by our house."

"But it's actual gymnastics?" he asked. "Summersaults, tumbles – that sort of thing?"

"Oh, yeah," Charlotte told him. "It's hardcore."

"Wow." Cooper gave his nod of approval, not that she needed it. "That's really cool."

"Marjorie's real good at it, too," she said, and it didn't escape Cooper's attention that they'd transitioned into talking like old friends. "She loves to horse 'round on the beam, and does all sorts of crazy tucks that make me 'fraid she's gonna break her neck."

"Wow," he repeated, awed. "I hope I can see that one day. Not the neck breaking, of course, but the gymnastics." He pursed his lips, very prissy-like, and corrected himself, "Excuse me. Not gymnastics; movement."

Caught off-guard, Charlotte threw back her head and laughed. "Yes," she agreed in between bouts of laughter. "Movement." When her mirth died down somewhat, her face brightened and she told him, "Actually, I've got pictures, if you wanna-"

"Are you kidding? Of course," Cooper told her, and watched Charlotte dig into her purse like any other proud mother. It didn't escape his attention, though, that the zipper pocket from which she pulled her brag book was the one where she used to keep her condoms. Apparently her priorities had shifted over the last six years.

Charlotte flipped two-thirds of the way through the red leather-bound book, easily two inches thick, and set it on the table in front of him. "This one, here." She indicated the photo on the right. "This was Marjorie's first gymnastics meet 'bout six or seven months ago."

Cooper moved the book closer and looked at the picture in question. "Oh, wow," he whispered. "Look at that." Cooper smiled, and felt his heart constrict at the sweet image.

Marjorie - in all her brassy glory, face scrubbed in sunshine - was sitting side-saddle on a gymnastics beam, dressed in a bright purple leotard, and proudly holding up a big yellow ribbon. She had the proudest, cheekiest smile on her face.

"Third place," Charlotte boasted. "Not bad for her first rodeo."

"Amazing," he agreed, his attention flitting to the picture on the left.

Marjorie was crouched down in a shallow creek bed, lifejacket on and covered in mud from head to toe, and holding what appeared to be a small crab trap. She looked like she was up to nothing but mischief in that picture.

"We didn't catch anything," Charlotte cut-in, smiling fondly. "But we sure had fun tryin'."

Cooper didn't even think to ask permission before turning the page; he wanted to see everything, every single picture. Luckily, Charlotte seemed more than eager to show off their daughter.

"Oh, I love that one," she exclaimed, pointing to the next photo.

Marjorie was standing in a water sprinkler – blonde pigtails and red, ruffled bathing suit too cute for words – as she hammed it up for the camera, complete with chin jutted up and hands resting on her little hips.

"And of course, that's one of my all-time favorites," Charlotte said, indicating the next picture.

Marjorie was suspended halfway up a rock wall, feet braced against the wall and hands splayed out as if to announce, 'Here am I!' with a big grin on her face.

"I swear," Charlotte added, shaking her head. "That girl climbed right to the top like a lil' spider."

It suddenly occurred to Cooper that he was skipping the first four years of his daughter's life and abruptly flipped the book all the way back to the very first picture. He tried to breathe, but the air caught in his chest and ached something fierce.

Charlotte looked surprised by his reaction, but kept on narrating, mindful, "That's Marjorie's 3-D ultrasound photo when she was 'bout seven months along." She pointed out the fetus' features and said, "It wasn't her first ultrasound close-up, but it's my favorite 'cause you can really make out her face."

He frowned when Charlotte flipped the page – skipping a big chunk – so he objected, "No, wait. I want to see it all."

"I don't usually show that bit to people," she hedged, obviously eager to move on. "It's personal and-"

"I'm not people. I'm Marjorie's father." He argued, "I want to see it all."

Charlotte looked uncomfortable - breaking eye contact and rubbing her temple - but ultimately, she consented. "Alright," she told him, reluctant. "But it's not me at my best."

Cooper flipped back and saw what Charlotte meant; they were all snapshots of the minutes immediately following Marjorie's birth.

Cooper had seen labor and delivery enough times to know that babies don't come out looking like cute little dolls. They were usually bloody and slimy, and more than a little misshapen. And judging from the photo, Marjorie had been all of those things at birth, but Cooper still thought she looked beautiful. He supposed that was a father's prerogative.

"She got cuter once they gave her a good scrub," Charlotte assured him, smiling. "And the lil' knit cap helped a lot, too."

Cooper made his way through the photos; Marjorie getting her airway cleaned out, Marjorie getting her umbilical cord snipped, Marjorie being swaddled and weighed, Marjorie crying as she was placed into her mother's arms for the first time.

Charlotte grimaced as she got a good look at herself in the photo. Even Cooper had to admit, she looked a mess. She was pale and sweaty, hair sticking to her forehead, half-crying and half already asleep. She looked about fifteen hours past exhausted and drugged out of her mind.

"Not my best Kodac moment," she repeated, wincing a little. "But in my defense, thirty-six hours of labor doesn't usually make for a pretty picture."

Cooper looked at her, horrified. "Thirty-six hours?"

"Oh, yeah. I cried more than Marjorie did," Charlotte told him, and he couldn't decide if she was joking or not. "Damn-near broke the nurse's hand, hollered swear words at my doctor, and turned into a basket case 'bout halfway through, and it was all downhill from there until Marjorie was born." Charlotte smiled, obviously reflecting back. "She was definitely worth it – no question, but I'll be damned if I ever do that again."

Cooper surprised them both when he said, impassioned, "I should've been there."

Charlotte looked startled by the admission. She nodded her head and said very simply, "Yes."

"I'm sorry," he told her, suddenly very emotional, and they both knew he was apologizing for a lot more than missing Marjorie's birth.

Tears pricked Charlotte's eyes and she whispered, "I'm sorry, too." She added, choking up a little, "We both fucked up so bad, Cooper, and I can't even remember why."

"You lied to me about being married – hurt me – and I went too far trying to hurt you back," he supplied, remembering their horrible fight like it was yesterday. "And now, you've spent the last six years raising my daughter by yourself and I've spent the last six years…" There were no words for the way he'd spent the last six years, except, "Lost, and missing my only child."

Something broke inside Charlotte and she started to cry. "I thought, by now, you would've gotten married and had babies with someone you actually loved." She sucked in a shaky breath and said, "I didn't know I had your only baby – I assumed I didn't, by now."

Cooper looked at the table, crying and overcome, and just didn't have the emotional wherewithal to explain she was only half-right; he didn't have the babies, but he was married. In the technical, legal sense, at least.

Cooper rubbed at his red and watered eyes, and looked over at Charlotte; she was dabbing at her own tears. He caught her gaze and managed a weak smile. "Marjorie is going to beat this and in a couple years, we'll be sitting somewhere, watching her play, and this will be nothing but a bad memory." Cooper found Charlotte's hand – small and warm – and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Her being here is no accident; she was meant-to-be."

Charlotte managed a small nod. "I know," she choked out, wiping at her tears. She looked down at their hands - fingers laced together and holding on tight – but she noticed the time displayed on his digital wristwatch. "Damn," she swore, voice hoarse with emotion. She withdrew her hand and told him, "We've been down here for almost an hour. I best be gettin' back and check on the Ladybug."

He smiled at the nickname. He could get used to this side of Charlotte; the loving mother of his daughter. "I'll walk you up," he told her, already on his feet. He motioned to the brag book lying face-open on the table and asked her, "Can I borrow this? I'd love to take the time and really look at it."

She smiled. "Of course."

They collected the trash off their table – two untouched coffee cups, two swizzle sticks, and a stray napkin – and tossed it all into the trash on their way out. They barely spoke on the elevator ride up to the seventh floor, but the silence was comfortable. Cooper supposed that was a good sign; comfortable silences were healthy.

Walking past the nurse's station, Charlotte flashed her hospital I.D. bracelet, and Cooper followed her example. They were waved through without a second glance. Two corridors later, they stopped in front of Marjorie's room. Cooper half-expected to be thanked and turned away for the night, but to his surprise, that didn't happen.

Charlotte eased open the door just enough to peek inside. The room was dark except for the gentle glow of a nightlight – a butterfly, it looked like – plugged into the corner outlet. It gave off just enough light to see Marjorie's body outlined underneath the bedcovers. And as soon as Charlotte saw her daughter's sleeping form, she exhaled a breath and smiled. "Still out cold," she remarked, pushing open the door and stepping inside.

Cooper watched from the doorway as Charlotte fussed over their daughter. As if she'd done it a thousand times before – and Cooper supposed that she had, and this was a normal, everyday thing – Charlotte gently grasped Marjorie's arm, which was hanging off the side of the bed, and tucked it up beside her. Then, with one hand resting on the little girls back, rubbing slow, soothing circles, Charlotte leaned down and pressed a tender kiss against their daughter's forehead. "Sleep tight, Ladybug," she whispered, brushing Marjorie's light blond hair out of her face. "Momma loves you."

She rubbed the little girl's back, softly mumbling words of affection in-between stolen kisses. When Charlotte finally looked up two minutes later, she met Cooper's eye with a guilty expression. "She's gettin' too big for kisses – or so she tells me." Charlotte gazed down at their beautiful daughter with just a touch of sadness, and it occurred to him that maybe Charlotte missed the baby in her brag book with chubby, kissable cheeks. "I gotta get my fill when she's asleep or risk gettin' fussed at for embarrasin' her."

As Marjorie's father, Cooper felt like he should be able to commiserate. He couldn't, though. He'd never loved on his daughter. Not a single hug or kiss, and now, according to Charlotte, it seemed like he'd missed his window of opportunity. His sweet little girl wasn't all that little anymore. Yes, she was only five, but she was already developing her sense of self, and asserting some independence. It was a particularly bitter pill to swallow; it would kill him if Marjorie 'outgrew' cuddling before he ever got the chance to hold her.

Charlotte reluctantly tore her gaze away from Marjorie and looked up at him. She saw his face and hers immediately darkened. "What's the matter?" she asked.

Cooper thought about replying with the compulsory 'I'm fine' or even concocting some simple lie, but they'd already shared so much. And he already had one major lie underneath his belt. Better not add to his weighted conscience. "I've never gotten to kiss her," Cooper pointed out, careful to keep his voice quiet. His hands found their way into his pockets and he frowned. "I've missed so much, even the free snuggles."

"I'm sure it's just a phase," Charlotte told him, obviously in an attempt to smooth things over. "Hell," she added, trying to be glib. "When Marjorie was three, she went through this God-awful phase where all she wore for two months straight was the color purple. Damn near drove me up the wall and made laundry a nightmare, but in time, she got over it. Wears all the colors of the rainbow now, and I'm sure she'll get over this soon enough. Nothin' more than her becomin' self-aware."

"Maybe," he conceded, foot scuffing at the floor.

Charlotte watched him mope for a minute, sighed, and told him, "C'mere."

Cooper looked up and frowned. "What? Why?"

"C'mere and see how it feels to kiss your daughter." She stood from the edge of Marjorie's bed and motioned him over. She was quick to reassure him, "She won't rouse for love or money, so c'mon, now's your chance." Charlotte smiled – sweet and teasing – and coaxed him, rubbing Marjorie's back, "You wanna feel like her daddy, you gotta steal kisses like the rest of us. No special treatment."

Cooper chuffed out a nervous laugh as his heart started beating hard in his chest. "Are you sure?" He gave a tremulous smile. "I'd hate to disturb her when she's so sound asleep." Cooper gazed at Marjorie – one hand curled up under her chin, eyes closed, and eyelashes fluttering – and his resolve crumbled. She was just too sweet to resist and he found himself hedging, "Well, maybe one kiss."

As he approached the hospital bed, Cooper was very aware of Charlotte's eyes on him. He reached out his hand and it hovered, trembling, for the longest time. Finally, when it came down to rest against Marjorie's back, he looked down and saw his hand right beside Charlotte's. Between the two of them, the palms of their hands spanned Marjorie's entire upper back; she really was that small. They could feel her body rise and fall – slow, peaceful breaths – and Cooper fell a little bit more hopelessly in love with his child. "She's really real," he told Charlotte, awed.

"Sure is," she confirmed softly, giving him one of those rare, unguarded smiles.

Cooper's heart ached. "She's so perfect," he whispered, and without another comprehensive thought for or against it, Cooper leaned down to kiss Marjorie's cheek. He was careful to keep the kiss soft and gentle, and barely there. As he pulled back, though, he saw the little girl twitch ever-so-slightly. It took Cooper a second to realize his scruff must've tickled her. In a moment of panic, afraid that Marjorie might rouse, Cooper immediately looked to Charlotte for help; she just smiled and shook her head.

"That's nothin'," she told him, not even bothering to keep her voice low. "You could bang pots by her ear and she'd just roll over, and go back to sleep."

Cooper realized, somewhat pleased, "I'm the same way."

Charlotte smiled then. "See?" Her smile wrinkled her nose, and it made Cooper smile. "She's half you, but instead of looks, she got your quirks."

His curiosity got the better of him, and he asked, "Like what?"

Charlotte didn't hesitate. Instead, rattled them off like she'd been keeping close score. "She needs her sleep like you, she loves babies like you, she hates country music, she can't match her clothes to save her life-" He opened his mouth to object and deny that one, but she wasn't finished. "She puts ketchup on macaroni – which is unnatural, by the way – just like you do, and she definitely got your sense of rhythm." Charlotte smirked as she stroked Marjorie's hair. "'Cause God love her, but she's an awful dancer. She just sorta flails around and moves her head like a pigeon."

"Hey," Cooper laughed, enthusiastically jutting his neck back-and-forth. "The kid has taste; that's a classic Blues Brother's move."

"That may be true," she told him, snickering. "But she's still on the waitin' list for Cotillion classes back home. Can't have her dancin' like that at her senior prom or even worse, her own weddin'."

Cooper screwed up his face – another thing Marjorie tended to do from time-to-time – and goaded her, teasing, "Aw, c'mon, momma. It's just harmless self-expression." Charlotte's smile faltered and it made Cooper second-guess himself; maybe it was just too soon for playful ribbing. Immediately, he worked to recover. "But anyway," he began, sobering. "I really do appreciate this." Cooper stroked his hand up and down Marjorie's back one last time before reluctantly pulling away. He smiled at Charlotte and said, "She's perfect, you know."

Her expression softened, and she told him, "I know."

"It's because of you." Cooper watched the surprise register on Charlotte's face, but he didn't stop there. "You've raised her all by yourself and she's amazing – beautiful, smart, sweet, and that's all thanks to you."

Caught up in the emotion of it all and feeling like he needed to express his gratitude, Cooper closed the distance between them, and pulled her into a gentle embrace. Charlotte's whole body tensed as his arms wrapped around her waist and hugged her close. She didn't object, though, and allowed the embrace to linger. A minute later, when they finally separated, the air was awkward and rife with tension.

With a few mumbled words, Cooper beat a hasty retreat back to his hotel room. Had he looked back, he would've seen that Charlotte was just as confused by the lingering, emotionally-charged embrace as he was.

**...TBC...**

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A/N: Geez, (Marjorie) Louise. That was one long chapter...REVIEWS, please!

And 'Thank You' to SomewhereApart for awesome beta'ing. :-)


	13. Important Things

**Chapter Thirteen: Important Things**

Charlotte woke the next morning to the sound of hushed voices. It was just enough to rouse her, but the hour was so early – barely five o'clock by her estimation and not even light outside – that her eyes dropped closed on their own volition, and she dozed for another twenty minutes. Gradually, the voices grew louder and harder to ignore until the child's voice – Marjorie's voice, she realized – shouted, "Help me! Help me! I'm gonna die!"

Hearing those words out of her daughter's mouth was so jarring that Charlotte quickly rolled from her stomach onto her back. Half-asleep and startled, she blinked hard at the peculiar sight that greeted her; Marjorie and Cooper were sitting cross-legged on the hospital room floor, each holding a Barbie doll and acting out some over-dramatic skit.

Unaware they had an audience, Cooper stayed in-character and replied in a high-pitched voice, "Follow me, Vivian!" Apparently, Marjorie's doll was named Vivian. "The evil witch showed me a secret path around the volcano." Charlotte watched the way Cooper moved the Barbie doll each time he spoke for emphasis; he'd obviously played some variation of this game before.

"But I'm scared!" Marjorie's eyes went wide and she exclaimed, "The dragon that lives in the volcano is gonna eat us for breakfast!"

Charlotte managed to catch herself before she laughed out loud. Her daughter had always had a fantastic imagination that, more often than not, left her in stitches. Cooper was no exception. His smile grew and he chuckled, and Charlotte couldn't help but think that he and Marjorie looked like two perfect peas in a pod.

Not wanting to ruin their fun, Charlotte flattened herself back down against the mattress. She had the perfect vantage point from atop the bed. She could stay hidden, but observe and overhear their every word. After a couple minutes, though, Charlotte had some trouble following the elaborate plot of their game. She ended up studying Cooper instead.

In the two years she'd known him – granted, that felt like a lifetime ago – Charlotte had never known Cooper to go for the rugged, mountaineer look. And while it wasn't a bad look for him, per se, the scruff did obscure much of his face. Charlotte was ashamed to admit it had taken her a solid seven seconds to recognize him. Once she saw those blue eyes, though – the same bright shade as their daughter's – there was no question; she knew old prayers had been answered and it was Cooper standing in front of her.

God, she'd missed him. She hadn't realized just how much until right now. The deep, keening ache in her chest – the one she'd spent the last six years denying and burying – was back with vengeance. Her heart physically hurt at the sight of him, especially when she saw how he doted on Marjorie. Cooper obviously adored their daughter and it appeared the feeling was mutual. Charlotte had never seen Marjorie take to another adult quite like she'd taken to Cooper.

"Dr. Cooper, you're messin' up her outfit," Marjorie accused, scooting across the floor on her knees. She rested her small hand on Cooper's wrist and took the doll away from him. When Charlotte saw that maneuver, she made a mental note to speak with Marjorie about grabbing at things.

Judging from Cooper's face, though, he was either oblivious or thought Marjorie could do no wrong, because his smile only grew as he watched their daughter fuss over the doll's clothes with a pretty little scowl. It was, without a doubt, the gaze of a proud father.

"Don't lose her purple boots." Marjorie turned the doll back into Cooper's custody, but she was quick to caution him, "They fall off real easy and I don't wanna lose 'em." She smiled sweet as honey. "I really, really love 'em."

He beamed, looking very pleased with himself. "I'm glad you like them. When I saw them, I thought you might."

When Charlotte heard Cooper say that, she took a closer look at the dolls they were playing with and realized she'd never seen them before in her life. Also, thinking back on it, Charlotte was pretty sure she hadn't bothered to pack dolls in her daughter's suitcase. Two empty Mattel boxes stuffed in the trashcan confirmed her next thought; Cooper had bought Marjorie more new toys.

"I love Barbie," Marjorie told him. Her face abruptly brightened and she demanded, "Guess what!"

Cooper leaned forward – totally enthralled – and grinned. "What?"

"You have to guess, Dr. Cooper," the little girl admonished, adding, "It's a rule."

He pouted. "Can I at least have a hint?"

"Nope."

Cooper gave a loud, overly-dramatic sigh. He scratched his finger against his temple as he made a show of thinking real hard. "Hmm," he intoned, playfully arching one eyebrow and twisting his mouth into a straight, thin line. He was obviously trying to appear as goofy as possible to win himself a smile from the tiny blonde. It worked, but not with the tiny blonde. Amused by the silly display, Charlotte pressed her smile into her pillow to hide it.

Marjorie goaded him in a sing-song voice, "I won't tell unless you guess!"

"Alright, alright," Cooper laughed, and went on to start guessing. "Does it have something to do with Barbie?"

"Yup."

"Does it have something do with her clothes?"

"Nope."

"Her hair?"

"Nope."

Cooper joked, "Her dream car?"

"Nope." Marjorie sat up a little bit straighter – clearly enjoying this game she'd started – and pressed, "Keep guessin'."

Charlotte knew from personal experience that Marjorie's guessing games could go on until Cooper was blue in the face. If she were a betting woman, she'd wager that Cooper realized what he'd gotten himself into. He still seemed willing to play along, though, as long as it made Marjorie happy. In a split second decision, Charlotte resolved to take pity on him. "Hey there, Ladybug," she said, propping herself up on her elbow to make her presence known. "Are you givin' Dr. Cooper a hard time?"

Marjorie and Cooper turned at the sound of her voice. She immediately made eye-contact with Cooper and he managed a weak, decidedly awkward smile; the result of their lingering hug the night before, no doubt. Marjorie at least looked happy to see her. "Momma, you're 'wake!" With a big smile, the little girl launched herself up onto the bed and landed on top of her mother.

"Oh, dear Lord," Charlotte laughed, having gotten the wind knocked out of her by forty-six pounds of pure enthusiasm. Grabbing her daughter's face in her hands, she touched their foreheads together, bumped noses, and whispered, "Good mornin', Ladybug. Did ya sleep snug?"

Marjorie shied away from the show of affection – her newfound independent streak rearing its ugly head – but the little girl kept on smiling, and replied, "Yeah."

"Yeah?" Charlotte's sunny smile faltered ever-so-slightly when she glanced over at Cooper. He was watching her – staring, really – with the most unnerving intensity. No one had looked at her like that in six years and that made her nervous. "Mornin', Cooper," she greeted. "About, uh, about how long have you been here?"

"Little over an hour," he told her, offering up both a smile and an explanation: "On my way out last night, I asked the nurse to call me when Marjorie woke up." Cooper shrugged and added, "I got the call around eight and I came right over."

Charlotte frowned. "Eight – as in, eight o'clock in the morning?"

"Yeah, of course." He looked totally perplexed, then suddenly very amused. "It's after nine, Char." His grin spread across his face – cheeky and teasing – as he taunted her, "Did someone forget to set their alarm clock – again?"

"I don't need an alarm clock. I wake up with the sun." With her very next breath, Charlotte turned to look out the hospital room window. There were grey, almost black storm clouds blanketing the entire Philadelphia skyline. "Although," she amended, feeling a little foolish. "I suppose the sun never came out today."

"'Fraid not," Cooper retorted.

Charlotte saw him sneak a glance at his phone but she didn't pay it much mind. Her brain was busy reeling at all she needed to get done. For the second day in a row now, she'd gone and overslept. And to make things even worse, Charlotte was pretty sure this was the second time she'd ever overslept in her entire adult life. She blamed Cooper; that man had always had a strange effect on her.

Pushing back the bedcovers, Charlotte rattled off her responsibilities, "Alright, Ladybug. We need to get your teeth and hair brushed, face washed, clothes on your back and food in your tummy." She stopped, scowled and swore, "Damn it, you needed the cream for your port an hour ago." Charlotte hated herself at that moment, because no cream – applied two hours before chemotherapy to numb the area around Marjorie's port – meant that her daughter was going to be in some pain later.

"But I'm already all numb-y," Marjorie told her mother.

Cooper stepped in and explained, "I gave her the cream when I got here. She should be good and numb for chemo."

When his words finally sunk in, Charlotte could've hugged him – again. "Thank you," she said, giving him a genuine and heartfelt smile. It felt good – damn good – to have someone around to help pick up the slack.

Cooper shook his head. "No need to thank me. That's why I'm here." He sneaked another look at his phone and Charlotte realized his cell kept going off on vibrate. Cooper ignored the call. When he looked back up, he surprised her when he prompted their daughter, "And we've already eaten breakfast. Isn't that right, munchkin?"

"Yep." Marjorie nodded, rolling off the bed. Since most of her IVs had been removed the day before in favor of the port, the little girl was enjoying her newfound range of motion. "Me and Dr. Cooper went and got breakfast when you were 'sleep."

"Dr. Cooper and I," Charlotte automatically corrected, then stopped short and asked, "Wait. Where'd ya'll go?"

"Downstairs," Cooper told her. "There's a Mickey D's on the lower level." He added a little more glibly, "This is a children's hospital, after all."

Charlotte pursed her lips, none too happy about her daughter eating that crap. Greasy, fatty fast food was a definite no-no in the King household. After Marjorie was born, Charlotte had become a stickler for healthy eating. Cooper, however, had no way of knowing that. Back when they'd dated, they'd done most of their dining at restaurants or from grease-soaked take-out boxes. They were both busy professionals and truthfully, neither could really cook all that well. Cooper certainly had no way of knowing that in the last six years, Charlotte had taught herself to cook well – amazingly well, actually – for the sake of their daughter.

It irked her, but Charlotte knew one tiny box of chicken nuggets wasn't the end of the world. She'd definitely make a point of discussing it with Cooper, but it could wait until later. He was trying to help and that was the important thing. "I appreciate the hand. Honestly, I do," she assured him. It didn't escape her attention that Cooper looked very proud of himself. Turning her attention onto Marjorie, she announced, "Alright, Ladybug. You still need to get dressed, wash your face, brush and floss your teeth, and good Lord, your hair - it looks like a lil' rat's nest."

"Five more minutes," the little girl begged, holding tight to both her new dolls. If she had her way, personal hygiene would fly right out the window in favor of playing all day long.

Charlotte would have none of that. "This isn't a negotiation, Marjorie – bathroom, now."

"Please," she whined, her small voice pitching up. "Pretty, pretty please-"

"Don't you 'pretty please' me." Charlotte stood up, very conscious of the fact she was still dressed in her pajamas – navy blue sweats and a black tank – but at least she'd had the forethought to wear a bra to bed in case Cooper did stop by unannounced. "Our rules don't change just 'cause we're somewhere else." Charlotte walked over to where her daughter was sitting on the floor and hooked her hands underneath the child's arms. Lifting Marjorie to her feet, she warned, "You better get in there before I count to three – one, two…"

"I'm goin', I'm goin'," Marjorie grumbled, huffing and puffing, even stomping her feet a little as she disappeared into the attached bathroom.

"Slam that door and you're gonna be in big trouble," Charlotte called out after her.

Sure enough, Marjorie heeded her mother's warning and took great care to close the door as gently as possible. A few seconds later, they could hear the water running and Marjorie's electric toothbrush roaring to life.

"I'm impressed." Cooper shook his head, seemingly in awe of what he'd just witnessed. "I'm around five-year-olds all day long, and let me say, none are as well behaved as that one."

Charlotte shrugged. "Kids need boundaries to feel safe; right and wrong, yes and no, black and white. Anything else just confuses 'em." She added, totally honest, "But, really, it's day-to-day with her. Some days she's an angel and some days I have to carry her screaming out of a Wal-Mart."

Cooper laughed in disbelief. "Oh, come on – Marjorie?"

"Yes, Marjorie." Charlotte realized somewhat perplexed that he didn't quite believe her. "You've known her for all of two days, so trust me; she can throw down with the best of 'em." There was a part of her that hated to shatter Cooper's perception of their perfect child. However, if he really intended to play daddy long-term, he needed a firm slap of reality. "Marjorie's a sweetie – sweet as they come, if you want my opinion – but she's still five. She cries and screams, and still throws her lil' tantrums from time to time. God love her, but she's stubborn-"

Cooper chuckled. "Yeah, I wonder where she got that from."

"Hey," Charlotte objected, smiling despite herself. "If memory serves and it does, you like gettin' your way, too."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." He winked at her and she'd be lying if she said her heart didn't flutter a little. "I'm such an easy going guy."

"Yeah, right," she scoffed, and they both stood there enjoying their newfound camaraderie. It was so comfortable that Charlotte felt like she had an opening to say, "By the way, I really appreciate you helping me out this mornin' – the cream, especially."

Cooper checked his phone again but his smile stayed in place. "I'm happy to help." He looked up and impressed upon her, totally genuine, "Honestly, Char. Anything you need."

"Well, thank you. It's nice havin' someone to 'round to help." She smiled at him and hoped to keep the tone light and joking when she said, "Although, the fast food – not so helpful."

Cooper's face fell. "No?"

"No," she replied, shaking her head. "I'm all for a lil' treat now and again, but no crap for breakfast please." Charlotte knew she had his attention and since he didn't appear to be taking any real offense, she decided to address one more thing. "And the presents," she told him. "They're sweet and all, but if you keep it up much longer, Marjorie will come to expect somethin' every time she sees you."

"Oh." His brow furrowed; he'd clearly never thought of that. "I guess you're right."

Charlotte couldn't help but feel for him. He was trying so hard. "You're doin' a good job, Coop. It'll just take some time for you – for us all, really – to adjust to our new roles here."

He offered a weak smile. "Thanks."

Cooper's phone buzzed in his pants pocket for the fourth time by Charlotte's count. She couldn't help but tease him, "Violet's gotten a lot needier since I last saw her."

"No, no," he laughed, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He glanced at the display and Charlotte noticed the way his jaw clenched ever-so-slightly. "It's not Violet." Cooper switched off his cell phone and pocketed it. "I'm just – I'm, uh, involved in something right now." He looked down at the floor and admitted, "I need to fly back to L.A. next Tuesday." He was quick to reassured her, "It's completely unavoidable - a legal thing - but I'll fly right back on the Red Eye the same night." He swore, "I'll be back before you even notice I'm gone."

Concerned, Charlotte asked, "What kind of a legal thing?"

He shook his head. "It's not important." Cooper nodded toward the closed bathroom door and told her, "The only important thing is standing right behind that door and I promise, nothing is going to keep me away."

**...TBC...**

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A/N: Sorry for the long delay. I'm in the process of moving, so it's a little hectic here! Boxes everywhere! Ack.

Anyway, thanks to my awesome beta 'SomewhereApart' and please don't forget to REVIEW!


	14. Kept Promises

**Chapter Fourteen: Kept Promises**

Charlotte peeked over the top of her magazine and smiled. Marjorie's second chemo treatment had concluded for the day and the little girl seemed to be handling it well. So well, in fact, that she was engrossed in her third viewing of _101 Dalmatians_ with Cooper perched by her side. They were both gnawing on half-melted, runny popsicles – grape anti-nausea for Marjorie and regular old cherry for Cooper – and had an amusing running commentary going; it seemed Marjorie's bad habit of talking during movies had, indeed, been inherited from her father.

"I don't like this part – this part right here," Marjorie asserted, totally oblivious to the long line of sticky purple juice running down her wrist and staining the sleeve of her shirt. She pointed to the portable DVD player with her slimy little finger and said, "Cruella wants to take the puppies 'way from their momma."

Charlotte had to give Cooper credit where credit was due. He'd suffered through that mind-numbing movie – the original cartoon version, not the remake – for two whole viewings, and somehow he still managed to stay engaged the third time around. "Yeah," he agreed, licking at his popsicle. "She's a meanie, alright." Cooper goaded her, joking, "And her hair is so silly."

Marjorie giggled and agreed, "Uh huh." She gnawed on the end of her popsicles for a beat, watching the movie with rapt attention. Then suddenly, out of the clear blue sky, the little girl announced to the room, "Cruella kinda looks like Mrs. Herbert."

"Marjorie!" Charlotte lowered her magazine and gave her daughter a look. "That is rude, and if I catch you sayin' it again, you're gonna be in for a world of trouble." She arched an eyebrow and asked, "Are we clear?"

As Marjorie apologized – a cute, little eye-roll thrown in for good measure – Cooper's curiosity won out and he asked, "Who's Mrs. Herbert?"

Charlotte glared at her daughter for the eye-roll, but answered, "Her piano teacher back home."

"Oh, I see." Cooper tried not to smile or snicker, but a small laugh escaped anyway. He was quick to cover his mouth, but he wasn't quick enough; nothing got passed Charlotte. She glared at him and he tried to recover. "So, uh," he turned to Marjorie and asked, "You play the piano, huh?"

The little girl shrugged and a dribble of popsicle ran down her chin. "I guess," she hedged. "But I'm not any good."

Charlotte's brow furrowed. "Hey," she chastised her daughter, voice gentling. "You're just startin' out and doin' real good."

"My fingers are too short and I can't reach the pedals." Marjorie wrinkled her nose and added, "And Mrs. Herbert smells like cheese."

Caught off-guard, Cooper hooted with laughter. Charlotte, however, looked less than amused. "What did I tell you 'bout bein' rude?"

"I'm not bein' rude," Marjorie insisted. "I'm tellin' the truth – honest."

A small smile quirked Charlotte's lips but she quickly tamped down on it. "Regardless," she told her daughter. "Keep those kinda things to yourself, please."

"Fine," the little girl groused.

Cooper, still grinning, tried to reassure his daughter. "Well, you're tiny like your momma, but I'm sure you'll grow some – a couple of feet, at least, and then, you'll reach those pedals no problem." He added without much thought, "But don't give up. The piano is awesome. It's a family tradition-"

Charlotte's eyes widened and she quickly interrupted, "Cooper." He turned to look at her and after seeing her nervous, panicked expression, he realized his mistake; Cooper was about to tell Marjorie all about his grandfather – Walter, the piano tuner – and how playing the instrument was a proud Freedman tradition. Except, Marjorie didn't exactly know she was a Freedman – yet.

Much to his relief, Marjorie seemed oblivious to the near-miss. She surprised him, however, when the little girl volunteered, "It's tradition 'cause my momma plays the piano and my Uncle Duke plays the piano and maybe Uncle Landry does, too, but I'm not sure. And Momma told me that my grand-momma used to play it, too, before she went to heaven to be with Jesus." She looked to Charlotte for confirmation. "Isn't that right, momma?"

Charlotte managed a tight smile. "That's right, Ladybug." She added, "And Uncle Landry got lessons when he was young just like Uncle Duke and I did, but I'm sure he's quit by now."

The little girl's eyes widened. "He quit his lessons?" She blinked. "That's bad."

"Well," Charlotte chuckled, not used to defending Landry and his choices. "You're allowed to make decisions like that when you're grown. You can quit altogether or even try another instrument – like, violin or the flute."

"Or the trumpet," Cooper chimed in. He smiled and told Marjorie, "I played the trumpet from fourth grade through high school." Meekly, he admitted, "Turns out, I didn't have the patience needed for the piano."

"The bench makes my tushy hurt," Marjorie declared. The little girl twisted onto her side, presented the adults with her bottom, and pointed out exactly where the bench made her hurt. "Right there," she told them, and judging from the expression on her face, she knew she was pushing it.

"Marjorie Louise," Charlotte warned. "Backside out of the air – now."

"I was just showin' you," the little girl insisted, falling just short of innocent-looking; she'd obviously known that was a no-no, but she'd still wanted to see if she could get away with it.

As the little girl rolled over, she felt something wet and slimy squish beneath her. "Uh oh," she intoned, looking up to hesitantly meet her momma's eye. "Sorry."

"What are you apologizin' for?" Charlotte walked over to take a closer look and when she saw the problem, she immediately scowled; her daughter's purple popsicle had been dropped into the bed and was all over the sheets and bed covers. "Marjorie Louise," she fussed. "Look at the mess you made."

"I'm sorry." Marjorie insisted, "I didn't mean to."

"It's okay, it's alright." Cooper spoke up and reassured the little girl, "It was just an accident." He walked up to the railing of the bed and lifted Marjorie out of it. "We'll change the sheets and it'll be good as new, I promise."

Cooper carried Marjorie over to a nearby chair and set her down, but kept a hold on her since the little girl insisted on standing up in the chair. "Be careful," he cautioned, afraid that she was going to take a spill.

"I'm bein' careful," Marjorie asserted, wiggling away from him.

Charlotte quickly stripped the bed down to the mattress and balled up the bed covers. As she turned to tell Cooper she was going to take a walk down to housekeeping, she stopped short; her daughter had lowered herself into the chair, hands folded over her stomach, and grimacing.

"Are you feelin' sick, Ladybug?" Charlotte took a step toward her daughter. "Did all that movin' around rile your tummy?"

Marjorie opened her mouth to reply and ended up vomiting over the side of the chair. Cooper had the good reflexives to get out of the way, but he didn't completely pull away. He rested his hand against Marjorie's back and demanded of Charlotte, "Where's her basin?"

"Um, it's over there." Charlotte heaped the bed covers onto the bed, forgotten, and searched the room for her daughter's sick bin. "Damn it," she swore, finding the bedside table – the last known place she'd seen the basin – empty. "I don't know. I don't know where…"

As Marjorie continued to get sick and the bin was nowhere to be seen, Cooper just picked up the small child and carried her into the bathroom. "It's alright, munchkin. It's okay," he reassured her, setting her down in front of the commode. "You're alright. You're alright, sweetie."

Charlotte was right behind them and dropped down beside her daughter. Pushing back the little girl's sunny blond hair with one hand, she rubbed Marjorie's back with the other. "You're gonna be just fine, Ladybug," she soothed. "You're gonna be just fine."

"I'm sorry, momma," Marjorie sniffled. "I made a mess."

"Oh, no, baby." Charlotte grimaced and promised, "I'm not mad. I'm not mad at all." She drew circles against her daughter's back. "I don't give one hoot about the floor, y'hear?"

"Mhmm," the girl intoned.

Marjorie abruptly vomited again, then retched and gagged. It sounded so violent and painful that Charlotte turned to Cooper, who was standing helplessly in the doorway, and asked, "Could you-"

He finished her thought, "Something to drink, yeah."

Cooper turned and left the room, leaving Charlotte to coddle their sick daughter. "C'mere, sweet Ladybug," she said, bringing the little girl up into her lap. She held Marjorie close and rocked her like an infant. Pushing her daughter's long, disheveled bangs out of the girl's face, she kissed the child's warm, sweaty cheek. "Y'know I love you, right?"

Marjorie turned around and wrapped her arms around her momma's neck, burrowing her little face there. "My tummy hurts," she mumbled into Charlotte's breastbone.

"I know, baby. I know."

Over the next few minutes, Marjorie became sick twice more, but she always ended up snuggled against her mother once the bout had passed. When Cooper finally returned, he was carrying a small juice box – apple; always a good choice. He handed the drink to Charlotte, who, after tearing the plastic wrapper off the straw and inserting it through the foil-covered hole, offered the juice to Marjorie.

"No," the little girl groused, swatting it away. She pressed her face into her mother's neck and hung there, holding on tight and refusing to let go.

Charlotte hated to force the issue, but she knew that staying hydrated was vitally important – crucial, really – when dealing with severe vomiting. Better Marjorie put away fluids on her own than have to get an IV bag of saline solution, which, Charlotte knew might still happen anyway, but she hoped to put that off as long as possible.

"C'mon, Ladybug." Charlotte rubbed her daughter's back and coaxed, "Please, big girl, take a couple sips for momma."

"No," Marjorie whined, and Charlotte could hear the angry, frustrated, exhausted tears building in her daughter's voice.

Even still, Charlotte knew what was best for her child. "I know you feel icky right now, but you gotta drink somethin'." She prompted her, "You want 'nother flavor – grape, maybe?"

Face buried against her momma's shoulder, Marjorie insisted, "No."

Charlotte closed her eyes, anguished. Her heart ached for her daughter. She'd give anything – her own life, even – to trade places with the little girl. Marjorie was so young – practically a baby. She didn't deserve this; she didn't deserve this pain.

Charlotte bit the inside of her cheek. She hated to force anything on her daughter – so much was already being forced on her – but it was necessary. "C'mon, Bug, be my big girl and take a sip for me."

Marjorie shook her head. "Uh uh," she refused.

Charlotte was sure she was going to be force to be the bad cop, so it genuinely surprised her when Cooper stepped in to play that role. "You need to drink something, cutie pie," he told their daughter, and Charlotte recognized the gentle, yet insistent tone he usually reserved for his own pint-sized patients. "It'll make your throat feel better and it tastes yummy." Cooper took the juice box from Charlotte and surprised her again when he took a sip himself. "See?" he told Marjorie. "It's super yummy; just apple, no medicine."

The little girl had pulled her face out of the crook of her momma's neck to watch Cooper. He definitely had her attention, but she didn't look completely sold. "No medicine?" She sniffed, "You promise?"

"Cross my heart," Cooper swore. He smiled at the little girl – cheeky and teasing – and out of nowhere, presented the juice box to Charlotte, the plastic straw inches from her lips. "Take a sip, momma," he coaxed her. "Show the kidlet there's no medicine."

Charlotte was in awe of Cooper. He'd known Marjorie all of two days and he'd already sussed out how her little mind worked. God knows, Charlotte hadn't made the connection until just now; a few of the nurses had given Marjorie some juice with her icky medicine to mask the taste, and now, the little girl was making negative associations.

Cooper prompted her again, "C'mon, momma. Prove it."

Hearing that nickname – that intimate term of endearment – out of Cooper's mouth was surreal for Charlotte. It sounded so familiar. It sounded like he'd been there the whole time, calling her 'momma' so it could be Marjorie's first word or something; which, come to think of it, sounded about too good to be true.

Charlotte leaned forward and wrapped her lips around the plastic straw, taking a sip from the juice box. "Mmm," she intoned for her daughter's benefit. "Real delicious."

"See? I told you." Cooper teased Marjorie, "And you didn't believe me, you silly goose."

"I did, too," Marjorie lied, grabbing for the juice box and taking big gulps to soothe her throat.

They stayed like that – content, quiet; like a family – for the next hour or so. Cooper occasionally made eye-contact with Charlotte and smiled, but no one really felt the need to force conversation. It was comfortable and if it wasn't for the shower stall digging into her lower back, Charlotte thought she could probably stay like that forever.

Cooper apparently felt the same way, because he didn't break the sacred silence until he noticed that Marjorie was starting to fall asleep. Catching Charlotte's eye, he mouthed, "Bedtime?"

Charlotte adjusted her daughter, rubbing her tiny back, and whispered, "Let her fall asleep first. She's easier to move that way."

He nodded and allowed another couple minutes to pass. It didn't escape Charlotte's attention, though, that Cooper's eyes stayed rooted on their daughter; he loved watching her, it seemed. But Cooper did notice when Charlotte grimaced and readjusted herself.

"You okay?"

"It's just my back." She downplayed it, "Damn shower stall."

Without much warning, Cooper slid down the wall and dropped onto the cold, hard floor besides her. He was so close that their arms and shoulders touched. Charlotte could smell his cologne as he scooted even closer – personal space be damned – and lifted his arm above her head and around her shoulders. "Lean forward for a second," he instructed, his voice a rough, gravelly whisper.

Charlotte inclined forward ever-so-slightly. It was almost an afterthought to ask, "Why?"

As soon as her back inched away from the shower stall, Cooper slipped his arm into the space she'd created. He found just the right spot – the spot right below her shoulder blades where the linoleum had been digging into her – and rested his arm there, creating a cushion of sorts. "M'kay, lean back now," he whispered, his breath warm against her neck. "See if that feels any better."

Charlotte hesitated. She turned and searched his face to try to gauge his level of sincerity. Cooper stared right back – open and honest – and she decided he was, in fact, being totally genuine. He wanted to help in any way possible, even if that meant being her human body pillow.

Charlotte leaned back against his arm and it took a couple adjustments, but she eventually found comfort. "Better," she told him, adding, "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." Cooper hugged her closer, and Charlotte became very aware of the fact she wasn't sitting against his arm so much as she was being held by him. He practically had the whole right side of his body wrapped around her, enveloping her in his warmth. She felt his temple brush against hers and she thought, maybe, he might try to kiss her neck or tongue that sensitive spot right behind her ear. But then, he rested their faces cheek-to-cheek – his scruffy facial hair uncomfortably scratchy against her soft skin – and it became painfully obvious that he wasn't making a move; he was just vying for a better view of Marjorie's sleeping face, even if that meant getting close with her mother.

"She's so beautiful," Cooper whispered. "I still can't believe we made something so amazing." He gave one dry, humorless chuckle and asked her, "Do you want to know something funny?" Cooper didn't give Charlotte a chance to answer, so she figured it was a rhetorical question. "I always regretted following you into the bathroom that night."

"Oh." Charlotte's face fell despite her best efforts. She looked down at the beautiful product of their passionate encounter and tried to conceal her hurt. "I see." She cleared her throat and ducked her head down, and told him "Well, I'm sorry you feel that way."

"Hey, no," Cooper objected. "You misunderstood me," he reassured her, adding, "That night was amazing. I only regretted it because I thought, maybe, it was the last straw; the thing that made you leave." He blinked hard and his lingering self-doubt was obvious when he asked, "It wasn't, was it?"

"No." She shook her head and told him honestly, "I left 'cause my momma was sick." She winced and added softly, "And I stayed away 'cause I thought you'd rather not have us around."

Cooper looked into her eyes. "Never," he asserted. "You hear me – never." He squeezed her shoulder and told her, "I never would've turned my back on my daughter." Cooper smiled despite himself as he looked down at Marjorie's sleeping face. "I mean, look at her; she's the best thing that ever could've happened to me."

Charlotte's guilt multiplied tenfold and she told him, resolute, "I should've tried harder to contact you; written a letter or sent pictures, or gotten in touch with Violet, even." She shrugged, swallowing that bitter taste of regret. "But you were so cruel when we broke up. You said and did awful things that I never would've thought you capable of, so when you never called me back, I thought, maybe, you'd never really been that guy I'd loved; maybe that guy never existed at all."

Cooper winced. "You really thought that?"

"Yes." She nodded. "I did."

He rubbed his free hand over his face, looking pained. "Well, it's not true," he asserted. "I never pretended to be anyone except myself with you. I was in love with you. I wanted to build a life with you – marriage and babies; the whole nine yards." Cooper shrugged. "But then, I found out that you'd lied to me about being married, of all things, and that whole foundation of love and trust came crumbling down around me."

"I said I was sorry."

"I know," he conceded. "And it should've been enough, but I was in such a dark place. So much happened; Violet's attack, Heather's death, the buy-in money, your new specialty." He shook his head because it all seemed like such a cop-out now. "I didn't handle it well – none of it – and that one lie just broke the camel's back, and I lashed out." Cooper impressed upon her, "But that wasn't the real me and it certainly didn't mean I never loved you." He clarified, "Because I did – a lot."

"I'd thought so – or hoped, rather." She flustered a little and admitted, "I didn't want to think I'd imagined the whole you lovin' me thing."

Cooper smiled and chuffed out a little laugh. "You didn't imagine it." Charlotte broke eye-contact and looked away, clearly uncomfortable with their conversation. He decided to lighten the mood or try to, at least, by joking, "So, this bombshell message I never got where you told me I was going to be a father, can I ask what you said?"

Charlotte looked at him, searched his face, and recounted, "Just that if you wanted to be a daddy, I'd come back to Los Angeles and we could co-parent and be a team, regardless of whether or not we ever got back together."

"And if I didn't want to be a father?"

She refused to meet his eye. "If you didn't want to be a father, I said I planned to stay in Alabama to raise the baby around family and friends. And, I promised to love 'er and protect 'er, and raise her up as best I could, and do my damnedest to make sure she was a good, kind little human."

"Well," Cooper managed a small smile despite his aching heart. He reached out and stroked their daughter's soft, blond hair. "I appreciate you keeping your promise."

Charlotte returned his smile and settled her body more snugly against his, and for the longest time, they just breathe together.

**...TBC...**

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A/N: Things are starting to get interesting...REVIEWS, PLEASE!


	15. Wake Up Call

**Chapter Fifteen: Wake Up Call**

Cooper made his way down the busy corridor toward his daughter's private hospital room. He was struggling to carry his pen and marked-up notepad, a heavy stack of medical books, a heap of insurance papers, and Xeroxed sheets from Marjorie's thick medical chart; all the product of his intense, three-hour meeting with Marjorie's pediatric oncologist earlier that morning.

When Charlotte had suggested the one-on-one meeting, he'd jumped at the chance. Not only had it given him a chance to thoroughly familiarize himself with Marjorie's condition, prognosis, and medical history, but it also meant that Charlotte was starting to trust him and involve him in their daughter's treatment. And that meant a lot to him.

Cooper approached the nursing station on route to Marjorie's room and was just about to flash his I.D. bracelet when his cell phone suddenly rang. He groaned, "You gotta be kidding me," and dropped his stuff down onto the counter, and dug into his pants pocket. Harried and distracted, he flipped open the phone without first checking the display and answered, "Cooper Freedman."

"Bastard," the caller greeted him, and Cooper immediately knew who he was dealing with.

Slumping against the wall, he rubbed his face, and replied with false cheer, "Good morning, Jordana. How are you?"

"How am I? I'm publicly humiliated, that's how I am, you smug son of a bitch."

An older, heavyset nurse looked up from her charts and spied Cooper talking on his cell phone. "Oh, no you don't, honey," she told him in a thick Jamaican accent. "Not on my floor, you won't." Pointing her perfectly manicured finger down the hall, she instructed him, "Take it out. Go. Go on now."

"Jo-jordana," he began, tripping over his words a bit. "I need to call you back. I'm in an oncology ward right now and we're not allowed to talk on our phones."

"I don't give a damn where you are," she shouted, and Cooper shrugged helplessly to the nurse in lieu of an apology. "I tried to use my credit card today and do you know what happened?"

"Um, you bought something," he guessed.

"No, I didn't buy somethin'," Jordana snapped. "Because my credit cards - all four of 'em - were denied." She added nastily, "And don't even pretend like you had nothin' to do with it."

Cooper rubbed his weary eyes and sighed. "Jordy, I've been e-mailing you for months and telling you to take those cards out of my name because I was going to stop paying for them."

"They're _my_ cards, damn it!"

Annoyed, the nurse walked out from behind the station to fuss at Cooper. "Son, I know you heard me." She got in his face and told him, "Now, you either hang up that phone or you take your good-lookin' self down the hall to one of the designated cell phone areas."

"Um, ho-hold on a second," Cooper told Jordana, covering the mouthpiece of the phone with his hand. He could still hear his soon-to-be ex-wife ranting and cursing at him as he appealed to the nurse. "Trust me, ma'am. There's nothing I'd like to do more than hang up this phone." He grimaced and explained, "It's my ex-wife, you understand, and she's bitching at me."

The nurse - Emma, according to her hospital badge - gave him a sly little smile. With a twinkle in her dark eyes, she reached out for the phone and said, "Well, she's no ex-wife of mine. I've got no trouble settin' her straight 'bout the rules on my floor."

It occurred to Cooper that it might not be the best idea to hand the phone over to a nurse on a power trip. There was, however, something about the woman that made him trust her. And she certainly seemed like the tough, take-no-prisoners type that could handle Jordana's mouth.

Cooper nodded his okay and gave her the phone, and listened with barely concealed glee as Emma identified herself as a nurse and chewed Jordana out, reading her chapter and verse on hospital rules. By the time Emma snapped the phone closed a minute later, Cooper felt like his face might fracture from his huge grin.

"I think I'm in love with you," he teased.

"Oh, Lord, honey," Emma exclaimed, returning the cell phone. "You're not that good-lookin'," she told him, and Cooper was pretty sure she was teasing him back even though she didn't crack a smile.

"You're just playing hard to get, but that's okay. I'm a persistent guy and I love strong women - the bossier, the better," he ribbed her, feeling light and flirty. Knowing that Jordana was probably still holding the phone to her ear, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened made him feel like high-fiving someone. It was liberating and exhilarating, and a kind of awesome that he'd forgotten he could feel.

Quirking an eyebrow, Emma looked him up and down, and pronounced, "You're too old for me."

Cooper chuffed out an amused laugh, opting not to mention that he was probably the age of her grown children. "Touche," he told her, letting her win this round.

On the verge of what looked like a smile, Emma suddenly chastised him, "Now, get your stuff off my station and get outta here before I call security on you for tryin' to start trouble."

"Yes, ma'am," he rejoined, giving her a big, cheeky smile.

Cooper gathered his stuff, winking at her as he turned to leave. Emma, of course, rolled her eyes, but he knew she probably smiled once his back was turned. Just as Cooper thought to himself that he'd definitely made a new friend, his cell phone rang again and one look at the display told him that his oldest friend was trying to call him.

Walking over to a designated cell area, Cooper answered the phone, "Hello."

"Hey, it's me," she replied, and Cooper recognized that Violet sounded stressed and upset, so he wasn't altogether surprised when she abruptly announced, "We have a huge problem here."

"What? Why?" Cooper frowned. "Did something happen with one of my patients?"

"Worse," Violet asserted, though he couldn't think of anything worse. "Jordana cornered me in the parking garage this morning. She's furious, Coop. She claimed you didn't pay her credit card bill, so her cards got cancelled, and now, she's threatening to have you arrested for violating the court order unless you call her and straighten it out, and-"

"I know."

Violet stopped and backtracked, "Wait. You know?"

Cooper backed up against the wall and slid down until his bottom hit the cold, hard floor. He rested there, one long leg pulled up against his chest, the other leg stretched out to its full length. His head bent forward slightly, left arm propped up on his leg while the other hand held the phone against his ear. He looked totally calm and comfortable; the polar opposite of everything he should be feeling in his situation.

"I talked to Jordana a few minutes ago." He closed his eyes and rolled out his neck, hearing a loud pop. "I know she's mad, but it's a non-issue. I'm not obligated to pay for those cards. She has no legal recourse and she certainly can't send me to jail over them." Cooper rubbed his face and admitted, "She's just blowing smoke because I've been dodging her calls and ignoring her texts, and there's nothing Jordana hates more than being ignored. It's makes her crazy." He smirked and add, "-er."

Silence stretched over the line like Violet couldn't believe what she was hearing. Finally, she told him, "I- I'm proud of you, Coop. It's about time you took a positive, healing step forward; cutting ties, breaking the cycle, standing your ground."

Cooper rolled his eyes at the psycho babble.

"But, if I were you," Violet continued, catching him a little off-guard with her abrupt shift in tone. "I'd be careful about provoking Jordana too much. You're in a very precarious situation."

He frowned, his brows knitting together. "You've been telling me for two years to distance myself from Jordana and now, you're telling me to play nice. What's changed?"

The one word out of her mouth stopped him cold: "Marjorie."

A rush of protectiveness seized Cooper at his core, and he stated emphatically, "My daughter has nothing to do with my divorce."

"She has everything to do with your divorce," she rejoined gently, trying her best to be sensitive to all involved. "I know this sounds horrible, Cooper, but Marjorie is your biggest liability. If Jordana found out about her, you would lose everything – and I mean, _everything_."

"The courts can't punish me for having a daughter," he argued. "If anything, it'll help show the judge I'm not the monster Jordana and her attorneys have made me out to be."

"Yes, but you're forgetting that Marjorie and Charlotte are a package deal. Think about it, Cooper," she told him. "Jordana knows how your relationship with Charlotte ended – the names you called her, the way you treated her after the break up, how she lent you money that you never paid back."

"I would've paid her back," he asserted, adding defensively, "But she left before I got the chance."

"I know that," she reassured him, her tone softening. "I know that because I know you, and I know the kind of person you are, but the judge doesn't know you. All he knows is what people tell him and if Jordana's lawyers subpoena Charlotte to testify, she'll have no choice. She'll be forced to tell the judge everything that happened, and it will hurt you."

"Jordana can't find out where you are and what you're doing," Violet continued, and it sounded more like an order than a suggestion. "You need to keep Marjorie and Charlotte to yourself until the divorce is finalized. Now," she told him, "I've already talked to everyone at work and they agreed to go along with the official cover story; you're in Ohio, visiting your parents, and-"

"No."

Taken aback, Violet balked. "Excuse me?"

Cooper knew better than anyone what he stood to lose. Some of the accusations leveled against him, if found to be true, could potentially cripple him financially for the rest of his life. But for some reason, even in the face of all that consequence, his decision was an easy one to make.

"Marjorie isn't a dirty little secret I'm keeping," he told Violet. "She's my daughter and I'm not going to tiptoe around her existence."

"Come on, Cooper. I'm not asking you to deny the kid."

"You might as well be," Cooper asserted, and his reasons came to light a few seconds later when he told her, "At the status hearing on Tuesday, I'm going to ask the court to unfreeze some of my assets so I can help pay Marjorie's medical expenses."

"But Jordana," Violet argued. "If she finds out that Charlotte is back in your life, she'll use her against you. All those baseless claims Jordana has made against you – the financial irresponsibility, your nasty temper, the emotional abuse – might actually carry some weight when an ex-girlfriend and mother of your child swears to them with her hand on a Bible."

"Charlotte wouldn't hurt me like that."

As soon as those words left his mouth, Cooper heard how ridiculous he sounded. He was hardly the authority on Charlotte King anymore. For all he knew, she could be a totally different person from the woman he'd known and loved all those many years ago.

Mercifully, Violet didn't point that out to him. Instead, she said, "This is really a conversation you should be having with Charlotte. This decision will affect the both of you. She's the one that'll have to leave her sick child and fly out to Los Angeles to testify." Violet added, clearly cautioning him, "And Cooper, you really need to warn her about Jordana. She shouldn't walk into this blind. That's not fair to her."

Cooper couldn't help but think that Charlotte was already walking into this blind. She knew nothing of his marriage or his divorce, or even the cut-throat court battle that potentially rested in her hands. And worst of all, Cooper honestly couldn't say why he hadn't mentioned it sooner. The omission - a big one, he conceded - had just...happened.

"I'll call you tomorrow," Cooper said out of nowhere, standing to his feet and beginning to gather his scattered effects. "I need to go spend some time with Marjorie before her chemo starts."

"Cooper-"

"I'll talk to her," he insisted. "Today. Not now, but later. Tonight," he decided, trying to convince Violet. Or even himself, for that matter. "After Marjorie goes down, I'll have a conversation with Charlotte."

"I'm holding you to that," she warned him,

After saying their goodbyes and ending the call, Cooper was distracted by worry, but he continued on to Marjorie's hospital room. He stopped just outside the doorway and peeked into the room. When he finally caught sight of his beautiful daughter listening with rapt, open-mouthed attention as Charlotte read to her from a story book, his smile was automatic, but pained.

They were the closest thing to perfect that Cooper had ever seen. He just hoped that he would be able to protect them.

**..TBC...**

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A/N: I know. I know. I'm the worst person in the world. It's been three whole weeks since my last update and I'm really, really sorry. Moving was completely hectic and then, I battled some serious, crippling writer's block. But I'm back now and I promise not to disappear again! I hope I still have some readers out there...REVIEW if you still care!

Up Next: Cooper and Charlotte share a private dinner, and a very intimate conversation...


	16. Monopoly Junior

**Chapter Sixteen: Monopoly Junior**

Cooper tried to put his divorce out of his mind and focus on his daughter – his beautiful, spunky little daughter, who, in spite of her tender age, was currently handing him his ass at Monopoly Junior. With each roll of the dice, it was becoming more and more apparent that Marjorie King wasn't to be underestimated. Sure, she needed help reading the names of her properties, but that hadn't stopped the little girl from wiping the floor with him. She had a competitive spirit that Cooper hadn't seen the likes of since…well, since the last time he'd played a board game with her mother.

_Naked Scrabble._ Now, there was a game that Cooper didn't mind losing.

Marjorie's sweet, little voice jarred him back to the present as she announced, "I'm beatin' you real good, Dr. Cooper." She lifted up his thimble, inspected the space he'd landed on, and grinned. "You're on my Puppet Show – again."

"Uh oh," he intoned, embellishing with his hand against his cheek. "I guess I owe you some money, huh?"

"Lots and lots… and lots of money," Marjorie told him, pausing mid-sentence to cough into her elbow. It hadn't escaped either Cooper or Charlotte's attention that the little girl seemed to be coming down with a common cold, of all the things.

Cooper made a big show of counting out his thinning stack of fake, pink money. "Y'know what, munchkin," he began, realizing he was going to come up short. "I think you finally got me." He smiled and shrugged. "You win."

Marjorie's little brow furrowed and it honestly surprised him. Cooper was sure that his daughter, like her mother, would take her win and run with it. Maybe even do a little bragging in the process. But Marjorie just seemed disappointed that their game was over.

"But, no, Dr. Cooper." The little girl sat up tall, tucked her feet underneath her bottom, and reached across the board to help herself to his collection of properties. Her little fingers – painted lime green with purple sparkles – flipped through the cards until she found what she was looking for; the Pony Ride property. "It's okay that you're outta money," she told him, taking control and sounding a little Charlotte King bossy. "You can just trade me for Pony Ride."

That made Cooper smile. When he'd bought the property midway through the game, he'd noticed that Marjorie had obviously wanted it for herself. And with a name like 'Pony Ride', he had to admit that it sounded right up his daughter's alley.

"Alright, Sweets," he conceded, throwing up his hands. There was no arguing with that cute, little face. "It's all yours."

Marjorie scrunched up her button nose and gave a big, goofy grin – a big, goofy Freedman grin, and it caught Cooper a little off-guard and tugged at his heart strings. His daughter really was a Freedman, regardless of her last name.

"It's gettin' late, Ladybug," Charlotte announced, setting down her phone and closing her laptop.

For the past couple hours, while Cooper had Marjorie occupied, Charlotte had taken the opportunity to get some work done long-distance. According to her, the doctor elected to fill-in for her was totally incompetent. But then again, to his recollection, Charlotte tended to say that about anyone that wasn't her.

Rising from her uncomfortable plastic chair, Charlotte stretched, slowly working the kinks out of her neck and shoulders, and told their daughter, "I know you're havin' fun with Dr. Cooper, but it's bedtime."

Marjorie's face fell and she pleaded, "Momma, no!" She added, whining, "Our game isn't even over yet!"

"Nice try, Bug," Charlotte told the little girl with a wink. "I was sittin' a hop, skip, and a jump away from y'all, and your game ended two minutes ago when Dr. Cooper went broke." Helping Marjorie climb out of her bed, she swatted her daughter on the bottom and instructed her, "Now, go brush your teeth, babe."

Marjorie didn't budge. Her lower lip poking out, big blue eyes imploring, she whimpered, "I'm hungry, momma."

Cooper didn't want to speak out of turn, but he felt compelled to point out, "The munchkin barely touched her dinner."

"I'm really, really hungry," the little girl embellished, tugging on her momma's sleeve.

Charlotte rubbed her temple and sighed, "No, Ladybug. It's too late. You need to get to sleep and besides, the hospital food service stopped deliverin' food forty-five minutes ago."

"But, momma-"

Charlotte seemed to have built up her tolerance, but Cooper just couldn't resist those big, pouting eyes. He finally spoke up and said, "The cafeteria is still open. I can run down and get something for the kidlet."

Cooper saw the way Charlotte pursed her lips and he knew he was in for it. "Dr. Cooper," she said, her tone clipped. "A word, please."

Hesitantly, begrudgingly, Cooper stood up and followed Charlotte out into the hallway. As she went to shut the door behind them, he could hear Marjorie chanting sing-song, "Somebody's in trouble."

It made Cooper smile. Even a five-year-old could recognize that look on her momma's face.

Charlotte firmly shut the door and turned to confront Cooper. Crossing her arms, she told him matter-of-factly, "I don't appreciate you underminin' me as a parent."

"I wasn't undermining you, Char," he insisted, totally genuine. "I was just offering to bring Marjorie a snack." He shrugged and admitted, "I know you said no, but she's hungry, and it's not a big deal. I'll be back in five minutes."

A soft, sweet smile worked its way across Charlotte's face, softening her. Any lingering trace of anger or annoyance was gone as she let him in on a little secret. "You're welcome to rush down to the cafeteria like your trousers are on fire, but the kid's a light. She'll be out in about…" Charlotte checked her watch and smiled. "Ten minutes – tops."

Cooper didn't doubt that Charlotte knew their daughter best. Still, he insisted, "I'll be quick."

"You do that." Her soft, sweet smile turned into a smirk. She was definitely mocking him a little bit. "I'll keep the bedtime story goin' as long as I can, Coop, but I'm gonna be honest with you; your chances here are slim to none."

He grinned and threw down the gauntlet. "Five bucks says I can make it back before she falls asleep."

Charlotte hid her smile behind her hand, but nodded and replied, "I'll take that bet."

Cooper was down the hall and halfway around the corner before she allowed herself to laugh and shake her head in obvious amusement. Having Cooper around made her feel like she had a second child underfoot. But in a good way, she decided.

Charlotte made her way back into Marjorie's room and executed their bedtime routine; teeth brushing, hair combing, face washing, pajamas on, and snug in bed with a story book.

Seven minutes and five pages into _Anne of Green Gables_ later, Marjorie was fast asleep. Most people would blame the long day or the rigorous, physically demanding chemo treatments, but unlike her mother, Marjorie had always been an enthusiastic sleeper. If she was tired enough, the kid could close her eyes and sleep anywhere; school desks, grocery carts, church pews. She didn't discriminate.

"Damn," Cooper swore, turning up in the doorway two minutes too late.

Charlotte opened her eyes, having rested them for just a second, and smiled at him. "Sorry," she told him softly, and actually meant it whole-heartedly. "That's one of the things you learn right quick about Marjorie." Charlotte chuckled softly. "The kid doesn't mess around when it comes to gettin' her hours."

"No, she doesn't," he conceded, impressed.

Charlotte disentangled herself from her sleeping daughter and sat up in bed. "Y'know, Coop, you don't have to hang around just to keep me company." She shrugged. "Marjorie's probably down for the night, and I'll bet you have a hot shower and warm bed waitin' for you back at your hotel. You won't hurt my feelings if you wanna leave."

Cooper smiled at her in that knowing way. "Nah," he finally decided after a beat. He brought a brown paper bag up onto the bed and announced glibly, "I need someone to help me eat all this food."

Charlotte took one look at the size of the bag and laughed, "Sweet Jesus. Did you leave any grub for the rest of the hospital?"

"Just covering my bases taste-wise," he insisted, chuckling as he moved over the small table and started unpacking. "C'mon, Char." He enticed her over with a grin, sobering a little to tell her, "I need to talk to you about something important."

"Okay," she replied, just a touch of hesitancy in her voice.

Careful not to rouse Marjorie, Charlotte stood from the bed and walked over the table. She helped herself to a plastic take-out box of wilted, day-old salad and sat down beside Cooper. "What's on your mind?" she asked, popping the container top and grabbing a plastic fork. It wasn't until she'd shoveled the first big bite into her mouth and started chewing that she thought to stop and say, "Thanks for the food, by the way."

Cooper laughed at her, shaking his head. "You're welcome." He reached out and wiped a spot of Ranch dressing off her lower lip, and teased her, "Hungry?"

Charlotte ran her tongue over her lips nervously. Her gaze flitted from Cooper's finger down to her salad, and back up to study his face. He was hard to read but the unmistakable gleam in his eyes told Charlotte that he'd meant to do that; he'd wanted to make her nervous and jumpy, and get her heart beating a little bit faster.

To mask her growing unease, Charlotte turned her full, undivided attention back to her dinner. She stabbed at the lettuce a little too hard with her flimsy, plastic fork as she ventured, "So, uh, what do you wanna talk about?"

Cooper looked up and studied Charlotte's impeccable profile – prettier than he'd remembered, and he lost his nerve almost immediately. "Did you get any work done tonight?"

Charlotte's eyebrows shot up and she challenged him, "My work? That's the all-important thing you wanted to talk about?"

"Well, no," he admitted, and it occurred to Cooper that this was his opening to say something else that needed to be said between them. "But your work is important, Charlotte." He looked up and offered a weak, apologetic smile. "I'm sorry I belittled it – the sexologist thing. I should've supported you, because I know you would've supported me." He shook his head, still angry at himself when he thought about how he'd treated her. "I was an ass."

"Yes, you were."

Cooper ashamedly looked into her eyes, expecting to find lingering hurt or even anger. Instead, he was relieved to find a twinkling smile in Charlotte's eyes that belied her harsh, clipped tone.

"It's okay, Coop," she told him. Abruptly, Charlotte shook her head and backtracked, "I mean, it's not okay – the way you treated me, but the apology isn't necessary six years on. I appreciate it. Honestly, I do. But I think we're past that now." She smiled and nodded toward Marjorie's sleeping form. "Us fightin' like cats and dogs, treatin' each other like dirt – maybe it needed to happen like it did so she could be here right now."

For some reason, that made Cooper inexplicably sad. "Yeah," he agreed, lackluster. "Maybe."

The pregnant pause lingered between them until Cooper finally extended an olive branch of sorts, and told her better late than never, "I bet you're a great sexologist."

Charlotte smiled. "I wish." She shook her head, reminiscing, and told him, "The whole sexologist gig fell by the wayside after movin' back south. There just wasn't a place for it in small-town medicine and really, it would've been damn-near impossible to keep a side-business goin' during my hiatus."

Cooper couldn't imagine Charlotte King taking a hiatus from anything, least of all her career, but there it was. "You stayed home with her," he realized, astonished by this revelation.

"For the first two years," Charlotte confirmed with a nod. "I don't think I've told you this before, but Marjorie was a preemie-"

"No, yeah," he said, flustered. "I saw that noted in her medical chart. I've been meaning to talk to you about it."

"Four weeks early," she told him, quick to add, "She was completely healthy; no breathin' problems or anything." Charlotte picked at her wilted salad and admitted, "Before she was born, I'd planned to go straight back to work. I wasn't even gonna take my three-month maternity leave. I'd hired a baby nurse and that was gonna be that." Gradually meeting his gaze, she confessed, "But havin' her early, bein' in labor for thirty-six hours and not knowin' if she was gonna be alright…it scared some sense into me. I fell in love with Marjorie the second I laid eyes on her. And after that, I just couldn't bring myself to leave her. I didn't want her raised by nannies like I was, so I quit my job two days after she was born and didn't go back until lil' over three years ago; until she was needin' preschool more than she needed her momma."

Charlotte's total, unwavering commitment to their daughter was beautiful. And it was funny, too, because he could remember all of Charlotte's assumed identities – the naughty Catholic school girl, the devilish nun, even the chocolate-covered treat, but for some reason, Cooper found that the mother of his child was the sexiest role he'd ever seen Charlotte play.

"You're not married," he pointed out, kicking himself almost immediately. It was such a loaded observation and really, he had nothing to base it on except her naked ring finger. And he knew that could be misleading; his own wedding ring was tucked inside his desk drawer back at Oceanside.

"Well, I _am_ still divorced," she reminded him dryly.

Cooper chuckled softly. "No joke?" he deadpanned.

"No joke," she confirmed, smiling down at her salad. "It's for life, unfortunately."

It was the perfect opportunity for Cooper to mention his divorce. They could joke about it and maybe even bond over their spectacularly bad luck in the romance department. But Jordana and his impending divorce was furthest thing from Cooper's mind. He was totally wrapped up in Charlotte and the here and now.

"I'm sure you had good reasons for leaving," Cooper told her, trying his level best to be sympathetic; something he now, after going through a divorce himself, realized should've been six years ago.

Charlotte looked at him long and hard. "What makes you think I left him?"

"Because," he asserted, picking at his slice of cold pizza. "I'm the only man on this planet stupid enough to give up the best thing that ever happened to him. Anyone else – a bigger person, a better person – would've fought longer, harder, better until you stayed." Cooper looked up and gradually met her eye. "You're an amazing person, Charlotte, and just this incredible, _incredible_ mother." He shook his head, lost for words. "I'm just in awe of you, and all you've done and sacrificed for our family."

"Our family," Charlotte echoed quietly, looking at him with an expression he couldn't quite peg, and Cooper couldn't help but backpedal.

"Well, your...I mean-"

Charlotte shook her head. "No, you're right. We're a family," she told him slowly, like she was testing the words on her tongue. Her lips quirked in a little wry smile and she added, "Not something I ever thought I'd say, but..."

"We're family," he repeated, reaching over and squeezing her hand lightly.

Those two little words hung in the air with so much heavy, genuine emotion behind them. Cooper found that he just couldn't look away from Charlotte's intense gaze. He hadn't felt a pull that irresistible, that all-consuming in six years and before he realized what he was doing, Cooper had used his hand over hers to tug her closer, closing the distance between them and planting a sweet, tentative kiss against her lips.

It was warm and chaste, and damn-near perfect.

When they finally pulled back, when the spell was finally broken, Cooper couldn't believe what he'd just done. Even worse, Charlotte's shocked, nervous response to the unexpected kiss was to stammer, "So, uh, Coop…" She licked her lips, cheeks still flushed. "You never told me what you wanted to talk about."

Cooper shook his head. "Forget it."

**...TBC...**

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A/N: Oh, my goodness! That was a really long chapter! Please, please, please REVIEW!


	17. Sea Change

**Chapter Seventeen: Sea Change  
**

Charlotte looked on with enormous pride as Marjorie stumbled, determined, through her reading companion. The little girl was admittedly lagging behind her age group when it came to reading. It wasn't for lack of smarts, though. Charlotte was confident – like most parents, she supposed – that her daughter was one of the most clever, well-adjusted kids in her kindergarten class. After all, Marjorie's verbal skills were advanced. She could problem solve with the best of them and her aptitude for critical reasoning measured off the charts. Marjorie's only weakness was phonics and it wasn't even a weakness, per se.

She was just so damned stubborn. She did everything on her own timetable and not a minute before, and that just happened to include learning how to read.

"Jane ha...d," Marjorie began tentatively, her voice pitching up like it was more of a question. "A ball and a ba...t," she finished, elongating the vowel until the word was almost totally unrecognizable.

"Jane had a ball and a bat," Charlotte confirmed, following along in the book.

Marjorie huffed, working hard. "Jane… licked?"

"Liked," Charlotte corrected. She managed to catch herself before she laughed out loud. Certainly, the last thing she needed was to give her daughter a complex.

"Jane liked," the little girl repeated. She stopped mid-sentence and dragged her finger underneath the next phrase. "…to pl-ay…" Her face abruptly brightened when she recognized the next word. "…baseball!"

Of course, Charlotte thought, smiling. Her daughter – the tee ball all-star and self-described tomboy – would, of course, be able to identify that word on sight.

"Repeat the whole sentence," Charlotte told her.

"Jane liked to play baseball," the little girl recited without hesitation.

There was certainly nothing wrong with her memory, and she started in on the next sentence like a champ.

"She licked-" Marjorie broke off and self-corrected, "…no, momma, it's 'liked' again. Um, she liked to…um, p-pit…pick-ch."

"Pitch," Charlotte told her, stringing it all together. "She liked to pitch." Using her finger, she broke the troublesome word down into two easy-to-read syllables. "Pit-ch." She studied her daughter's sweet face to gauge her level of understanding, then prompted her, "Do you see how that works, Ladybug?"

"Uh huh," Marjorie intoned, nodding her head. Suddenly turning quiet and pensive, the little girl looked up at her mother and wondered out loud, "Momma, where's Dr. Cooper?"

Charlotte's stomach twisted and her face grew warm. _Cooper. _She'd tried her damnedest to forget their kiss from the night before, but hell, just hearing his name made her whole body flush. She even had goose bumps, damn him.

"I don't know, babe." Charlotte checked her watch and frowned. It was well after five o'clock – very nearly Marjorie's dinnertime, now that she thought about it – and Cooper still hadn't come for his daily visit. And considering he usually spent the entire day with them, Charlotte assumed the worst; he was keeping his distance because of their kiss.

Charlotte's jaw clenched. She honestly didn't know what made her angrier – Cooper avoiding her to dodge an awkward conversation or the fact that he was willing to sacrifice precious time with his sick daughter to do it.

"I'll tell you what, Bug," Charlotte began, resolutely closing the book and setting it on the bedside table. "I'm gonna order you an early dinner – grilled chicken, greens, and fruit – and get Nurse Stacie to come sit with you." She stood up and forced a smile wholly for her daughter's benefit. "I'll go myself and see what's keepin' Dr. Cooper. How does that sound?"

Marjorie's face brightened and she changed the subject right out of the clear blue sky. "Can I have chocolate puddin' for dessert?"

Charlotte chuffed out a laugh at the unexpected request. "I don't see why not," she ceded, finger-combing her daughter's bangs out of her eyes and back away from her pretty face. "But you gotta promise to eat your greens, too."

Marjorie thrust her hand up, perilously close to her mother's face, and offered, "Pinky promise, momma?"

The gesture was so juvenile, so endearing. It had 'Cooper' written all over it.

"Who taught you that?"

Sure enough, without missing a beat, Marjorie replied, "Dr. Cooper did," adding with heartbreaking sweetness, "He's my best friend."

Charlotte's chest ached and her mouth went dry. She rolled her lips back, running her tongue over them, biting hard until the sensitive skin throbbed. If it wasn't for Marjorie staring right at her, she probably would've lost it completely.

Clearing her throat – one, twice, Charlotte swallowed the cry and told her daughter, "I'll be back before bedtime, m'kay, Bug?"

"M'kay, momma," the little girl replied, grabbing for the television remote. She'd already forgotten all about her pinky promise. It was time for _Marvin the Tap-Dancing Horse_, after all, so Charlotte knew that she wouldn't be missed.

After placing Marjorie's dinner order – complete with chocolate pudding – with Food Services and asking Nurse Stacie to check in on her daughter periodically, Charlotte left the hospital grounds for the first time in almost a week.

Cooper's hotel was walking distance and Charlotte made good time. When she was finally standing outside his hotel room – Room 321, she tried to compose her thoughts, running a hand through her wind-whipped hair. She knocked hard, with purpose.

Cooper opened the door a minute later. He was dressed in a pair of worn jeans, soft at the knees from wear and a light blue work shirt, rolled up and cuffed just below his elbows. The color of the shirt brought out his eyes, but more than that, he was clean-shaven. The scruffy, mountain man was gone and the old Cooper stared back at her.

"You shaved," Charlotte blurted out, and instantly hated how the observation made her sound.

"Uh, yeah," Cooper chuckled, rubbing his soft, naked cheek like he was still adjusting to the stark change. "I figured it was time, especially after Marjorie told me yesterday that I looked like Papa Bear from the _Berenstain Bears_."

"Oh, Lord." Her eyes closed, too amused to be embarrassed. "Sorry 'bout that," she told him, biting back her smile. "Her cultural references are limited to the Cartoon Network and PBS kids."

"No, I thought it was cute," he reassured her. "I didn't take any offense. It was time to make a change – past due, really, when I think about it."

Charlotte nodded, sparing a small, measured smile. "Well, it's nice to see that the ole Cooper was hidin' under there somewhere."

They stood there smiling awkwardly at each other until Charlotte, made self-conscious by the fact she'd caught herself flirting, remembered the whole reason she'd walked unarmed into the lion's den.

"Marjorie missed your visit today," she told him, tilting her head to one side; appealing to him. "She asked about you. Called you her best friend and everything."

Cooper melted; she saw it and ran with it.

"Marjorie thinks you're fun and silly and I'm sure, a helluva lot more excitin' than her ole momma." Charlotte shrugged helplessly, shaking her head. "She may not know you're her daddy, Cooper, but she still looks up to you. You hung the moon as far as she's concerned. You're her best friend, her partner in crime. You get down on all fours and play with her, and she needs that right now. You raise her spirits and make her laugh when she's feelin' sick, and I get that you're uncomfortable because you kissed me - I get that, Cooper, but Marjorie's well-bein' needs to be more important. That's what bein' a parent is all about. It's them before you – always, no matter the cost to yourself."

Charlotte looked up and gradually met his intense gaze. He was staring at her face, her lips, no doubt thinking about their kiss

"Now, I- I know there's still somethin' between us," she admitted, licking her lips to throw off Cooper's gaze. It had the opposite effect; he wouldn't or couldn't look away. "I won't pretend there's nothin' between us, but it's been six years, Cooper. Six long, life-changing years, and we can't go back to the way things were. I have a baby to think about. My emotions are all wrapped up in her and gettin' her healthy again. I can't invest my head or my heart in anything else right now, so that only leaves somethin' purely physical..." Her mouth went dry. She was literally scared spitless by the intense, predatory way Cooper was looking at her. "And we know better than that, don't we? Didn't we learn our lesson the first time 'round?" she whispered, her voice trailing off in a last-ditch effort to resist.

It was useless. A second later Cooper was crossing the threshold and crushing their mouths together in a rough, passionate kiss. It knocked the breath out of her and rendered her speechless and unable to move. It was all she could do to wrap her arms around his neck and stumble blindly into the hotel room.

Charlotte heard Cooper kick the door closed after them.

As Cooper's hungry mouth trailed from her swollen, bitten lips down to that sensitive spot behind her ear, Charlotte arched up to meet him, shamelessly eager to feel his lips, his tongue on her flesh. An incredible rush of passion, of life, surged through her body. She hadn't experienced anything like it since the last time Cooper had touched her; an all-encompassing, overwhelming, primal, unconscionable need to get naked and screw someone's brains out.

Together they stumbled blindly toward the bed. Charlotte drew her sweater over her head and let it fall; it puddled on the floor beside Cooper's hastily discarded shirt and jeans. They fell across the rumpled bed, where touching and caressing became a competition with no rules or boundaries. Pulling off Charlotte's pants in one swift movement, Cooper tugged her panties down and moved on top of her.

A half-hour later, when the crashing waves had finally receded, Charlotte lay like a victim of a ship-wreck; damp, spent, eyes closed, stomach rapidly rising and falling.

When she finally opened her eyes, Cooper was gazing directly into them. He smiled at her and brushed her damp hair off her sticky, sweaty forehead. "God, Char, I missed that," he whispered, awed, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair spread out across the pillow. "We're so fucking good together – so fucking good."

Charlotte knew that they'd just committed a sin against reason. They'd gone and complicated an already complicated situation, but she just couldn't find it in herself to care. She was too busy enjoying the lazy, languid afterglow of the first orgasm she'd had in six years that was more than just marginally satisfying.

Some things hadn't changed, thank God; Cooper was still a freak between the sheets.

"Your body is such a turn-on," he growled, pushing back the tangled sheets to explore a body that had changed since he'd last seen it. He ran his hand over her breasts, testing their new weight, down her hips, caressing her faded, barely-there stretch marks, and up to the small pouch of her stomach; she'd never managed to lose those last five pounds of baby weight.

If Charlotte was at all self-conscious, Cooper put her nagging fears to rest when he moved down the length of her body, placing a kiss on each of those places.

"What in Sam Hill are you doin'?" she drawled lazily, eyes half-closed.

He hummed low in his throat, kissing her hip. "I'm thanking your body for my baby," Cooper whispered, nuzzling her soft, silky skin.

Charlotte smiled, her breath hitching as his mouth moved down, down; so close to where she wanted it most. Cooper's oral skills were legend in her memory and more than anything, she wanted to see if they lived up to the lore. But as her head thrashed back and forth on the pillow, Charlotte happened to catch sight of the digital clock on the bedside table.

"Damn it," she groused, abruptly sitting up and dumping him off her. "I gotta get back to the hospital. I promised Marjorie I'd be back for bedtime."

Cooper captured her face in his hands and kissed her slow and sensual, trying to draw her back in and make her forget – if only for five more minutes.

Charlotte pushed him back. "I gotta go," she repeated, breathless. "Now, Coop; not twenty minutes from now."

"Alright," he conceded, bottom lip stuck out. Climbing out of bed, Cooper padded barefoot into the bathroom and leaned the door closed. He called out to Charlotte, "Don't leave without me, Char. I wanna come and say goodnight to the munchkin, too. And then we can talk."

Charlotte knew that was coming. Past experience told her that Cooper would want or even need to talk out his feelings. Never mind that this thing between them - whatever it turned out to be - was so new that their sheets were still warm.

Standing up, Charlotte gathered the bed sheets around her body as she policed the floor for her strewn clothes. She could hear the shower running in the bathroom as Cooper got himself cleaned up. For a split second, she thought about climbing into the shower with him like old times, making love under the hot spray, but that carnal thought was interrupted when a phone started to ring.

"Cooper!" Charlotte called, fumbling around and locating his cell on the bedside table. "Cooper, your phone is ringin'!"

When she still got no response, Charlotte realized that he couldn't hear her over the running water. Worried that it might be one of his young patients in distress, she flipped open the cell and answered, "Dr. Cooper Freedman's phone."

A woman's voice, clipped and angry, demanded, "Who the hell is this?"

Charlotte was taken aback, but identified herself, "This is Dr. Charlotte King," retorting back to the rude woman, "Who the hell is this?"

"Jordana Freedman," the voice replied haughtily. "I am Cooper's _wife_."

Ten minutes later, when Cooper finally emerged from the bathroom, steam billowing out into the room and a white fluffy towel slung low around his waist, Charlotte was nowhere to be found.

**...TBC...**

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A/N: Poor Charlotte had to find out eventually...Thanks to my awesome beta 'SomewhereApart'...REVIEWS ARE LOVE!


	18. Famous Last Words

**Chapter Eighteen: Famous Last Words**

Cooper was disappointed when he realized that Charlotte had left the hotel without him, but he'd simply chalked it up to an anxious momma wanting to check in on her baby. It wasn't until fifteen minutes later when he arrived at the hospital and walked into Marjorie's room that he started to suspect something wasn't quite right.

The overhead lights were off in his daughter's room. At first glance, the little girl appeared to be asleep but Cooper knew better. He'd spent enough time around children to recognize the tell-tale signs; Marjorie was laying ramrod straight, her tiny hands tucked up underneath her cheek, and her breathing irregular – like she was trying not to laugh.

Obviously, the little stinker was trying to fake him out.

"Nice try, monkey," Cooper chuckled, walking into the darkened room. He perched on the edge of his daughter's bed, tickling her side until sure enough, the little girl shrieked with laughter and rolled over to escape his reach.

Marjorie opened her big blue eyes, giggling, and pushed hair out of her face. Hugging her raggedy teddy bear against her chest, she boasted, laughing, "I almost got you, Dr. Cooper!"

Cooper's eyes slowly acclimated to the darkened room. He noticed that Marjorie hadn't been changed into her pajamas and judging from the smudged ring of chocolate around her mouth, she hadn't washed up either. And Cooper knew that both those things were part of Charlotte's bedtime routine.

But before Cooper could ask Marjorie about her momma's whereabouts, his daughter made what she thought was a startling discovery. "Dr. Cooper," she cried, eyes going wide. "Your face went bald!"

It took Cooper a second to connect the dots five-year-old style and realize what Marjorie was talking about. Once he got it, though, he laughed out loud. "Silly goose, my face didn't go bald." Cooper rubbed his cheek and chuckled, "I just shaved; that's all." He quirked an eyebrow and posed the question, "Don't you know anyone that shaves?"

"My momma shaves her legs," Marjorie volunteered, eager to contribute.

Cooper smirked. "Well, there you go."

The little girl went abruptly quiet and reached into her mouth with two fingers. She worked at something a minute before screwing up her face and announcing, "My tooth is super loose."

"Oh, yeah?" He smiled. "Can I see?"

Marjorie opened wide and pointed to the tooth in question. One of her two front teeth was more than loose; it was practically hanging by a thread.

Cooper loved these rites of passage. As a pediatrician, he'd witnessed a lot of them, but always from the sidelines. But now, thanks to Marjorie, he was in the game – finally.

"Oh, wow," he intoned, smiling. He gently touched her top lip and pushed it up for a better view of the tooth. "It _is_ super loose," he readily agreed. "I bet it would come out if you pulled on it."

Marjorie leaned back away from him and flapped her hands. "No," she told him, obviously panicked and agitated at the suggestion. "Don't pull it. It'd hurt too much."

"No, it wouldn't," Cooper assured her calmly. "It's _really_ loose. It wants to come out." He grinned at her. "And if it comes out tonight, the Tooth Fairy can come visit you."

That got the little girl's attention. She smiled and boasted, "The Tooth Fairy leaves me five dollars and a new toothbrush."

"Five _whole_ dollars?" he demanded, showing mock outrage. "That's a lot of cheese. I remember when I was your age, the Tooth Fairy only left quarters."

Marjorie giggled. "I guess my teeth are more special-er than yours."

"You're probably right," he conceded, shrugging his shoulders as he enticed her along.

It was probably selfish of him, but Cooper wanted that tooth to come out. He was well-aware that he'd already missed five years of Marjorie's life; five chances to tiptoe downstairs in the dead of night and leave presents underneath the Christmas tree, five chances to get down on his hands and knees and hide plastic, colored eggs in the backyard. Cooper wasn't about to miss his chance to play the Tooth Fairy. Even if it did cost him five whole dollars.

"Y'know," he told her. "I'm a pediatrician. I've helped a bunch of other little kids get their loose teeth out. In fact, it's one of my super special specialties."

Marjorie carefully considered his offer for a minute, wiggling her tooth back and forth with the tip of her tongue. Finally, she tentatively confirmed, "And it won't hurt?"

"Not one bit," he swore, crossing his heart with his hand.

"Okay," she conceded. "I guess you can try."

Cooper scooted closer to Marjorie and asked her to open wide. He took a second to assess her tooth and saw it was very nearly about to fall out on its own.

"Alright, Munchkin," he began, reaching over to the bedside table and snapping on a pair of light blue medical gloves. "I'm gonna count to three and pull, m'kay?"

The little girl squeezed her eyes closed and nodded.

"Alright…one, two…" Cooper quickly snatched the tooth out on two before she could anticipate the pain and pull away. It was an old trick but it almost always worked.

Marjorie pinched one eye open, scared and hesitant, and asked him, "Did you get it?"

Cooper held up the little baby tooth with pride. "Yes, ma'am, I did."

A huge, overexcited grin bloomed across Marjorie's face. It perfectly showcased her new gap-toothed smile and no joke, it was just about the cutest thing that Cooper had ever seen in his forty-something years.

"Look at that gorgeous movie star smile," he remarked, tilting his daughter's chin up for a better look. "You inherited your momma's straight, perfect teeth. No question about it." He added, "And it's a good thing, too. No braces for you."

Marjorie didn't much care about her orthodontic future. She just wanted to get her hands on that tooth.

"Lemme see, Dr. Cooper," she demanded, forgetting those ingrained southern manners and grabbing the tooth right out of his hand. She handled it with care, turning it over and over, and examining its every last contour.

"It's very cool," Cooper assured her, rubbing the little girl's back and resisting the strong urge to kiss the top of her head. "I'm sure it'll fetch a pretty penny."

Marjorie looked up at him. "Maybe I'll get six dollars," she schemed.

"Maybe."

Cooper watched Marjorie admire her baby tooth and calculate the small fortune it could bring her. It was definitely one of those proud parent moments he'd heard so much about.

"Y'know what, Sweets," he began, reluctantly checking his watch. "It's getting pretty late. I think you better head to bed if you want the Tooth Fairy to pay you a visit tonight." He looked at Marjorie – her face smeared with chocolate and her pink jumper rumpled from the day's activity – and made his first command decision as a father. "But first, I think we better get you cleaned up and changed into your PJs."

Marjorie poked out her bottom lip, pouting, and asked, "Where's my momma?"

The strong, loving bond between mother and daughter pulled at Cooper's heartstrings. It was funny; six years ago, he used to stress about the kind of mother that Charlotte would make should their relationship go the distance. But now, Cooper could see how self-righteous and flat-out wrong it'd been of him to worry. Charlotte was such an amazingly warm, hands-on momma. It was almost a shame they'd had only one child.

"That is a very good question," Cooper told his daughter, glancing at his watch again.

It was a little unsettling to him that Charlotte hadn't made it back to the hospital as promised to put Marjorie to bed. However, if he had to guess the reason, he'd say that Charlotte had probably stopped to talk test results with Marjorie's doctor and gotten sidetracked – or some other reasonable, comparable explanation.

"I'll make a deal with you, Doodlebug," he told her, taking charge. "If you get changed into your PJs and cleaned up, you can watch a DVD of your choosing while I go and track down that momma of yours." Cooper smiled at his daughter and prompted her, "How does that sound? Do we have a deal?"

Enthused, Marjorie nodded. "Deal." She held out her pinky to seal the deal the way he'd taught her and Cooper was more than happy to oblige.

Fifteen minutes later, Cooper was ready to pat himself on the back. He'd managed to execute the bedtime routine almost to the letter; their little girl's face had been washed, her teeth had been brushed, and she'd been successfully changed into her pink frog pajamas. Admittedly, he'd tried and given up brushing Marjorie's hair after the fifth consecutive 'ouch' but hey, baby steps.

"Alright-y, Miss Marjorie," he said, clapping his hands together. "You held up your end of the bargain like a trooper, so now, I'm gonna go find your momma." Cooper smiled, wagging his eyebrows for a little intrigue. "And, of course, I'll be sure to make an appointment with the Tooth Fairy."

Marjorie gave him a big gap-toothed grin.

Cooper grinned back, winked at his baby girl, and set out to find her momma. He checked around the nurses' station, near the vending machines, all around the coffee dispensary, and down in the cafeteria. Cooper was just about to throw up his hands and concede maybe, just maybe, Charlotte wasn't on hospital grounds when he thought to check the crash room for on-call doctors. It was a long shot, but he was out of good ideas.

Cooper knocked once and after receiving no answer, he opened the door and stepped inside the nearly pitch black room. He didn't have any real expectation of finding charlotte in there so it genuinely surprised him when he recognized her silhouette outlined against one of the twin beds.

Charlotte was lying on her side, her back facing toward him.

"There you are," Cooper remarked softly, fondly. He smiled and walked inside the on-call room, letting the door swing closed behind him. The lights were off and it was so dark that he could hardly see his hands in front of his face. But somehow, by the grace of God, Cooper managed to make it across the room without tripping or stubbing his toe, and crawled right into bed behind Charlotte.

Cooper draped an arm around her waist and tangled their legs together. He'd forgotten how good it felt to fit against another person so perfectly – like they were two pieces of a whole.

"The munchkin and I missed you at bedtime." Cooper tightened his grip around Charlotte's waist and reassured her, "But not to worry. I actually bribed her into getting washed up and changed into her rockin' frog jammies." He chuckled and confessed, "She's in there now, watching _Pocahontas_ for the forty-seventh time. But hopefully, she'll fall asleep before John Smith even reaches the new world."

Cooper lit up. "Oh, and guess what, Char – Marjorie lost a baby tooth." He smiled. "It's the top front tooth, so now, she has a little gap. It's really cute. And she's very excited about it." He chuckled. "She's already finding new, practical uses for it – like drinking apple juice from a bendy straw inserted through the gap. Pretty cute, huh?"

Charlotte didn't respond, but nodded her head once.

"Would you mind if I played the Tooth Fairy tonight?" Cooper continued, obviously excited by the new role he was stepping into. "I mean, I've never done it before. It would really mean a lot to me. Although," he conceded, laughing, "I need to find a 24-hour drugstore so I can buy Marjorie a new toothbrush." He gently nudged Charlotte's hip and teased her, "Way to put your own unique spin on things, Char."

This time Cooper didn't wait for any response.

"I can't wait to do that," he avowed, quickly clarifying himself, "I can't wait to make my own traditions with Marjorie – like making heart cut-outs on Valentine's Day or coloring eggs the weekend before Easter." He chuckled, "I know, I know. I'm Jewish. But there's no rule against Jews dipping hardboiled breakfast food into tie-dye, and I've always wanted to try it."

"Making memories with her should get easier," he said, sounding a little tentative. "I mean, once she's discharged from the hospital and home with us, it'll get easier, right?"

Cooper propped his head up onto his elbow, looking to the future and thinking out loud. "We should really talk about what's going to happen once the munchkin is discharged, because she's tolerating the chemo so well, I doubt her doctors are going keep her in-patient for too much longer; another couple days at the absolute most."

Cooper tightened his grip around Charlotte's waist and leaned further into her, his chin coming to rest against the crown of her upturned shoulder. He could see the side of her face in profile and she was just so damned pretty. He took the plunge before he could even stop to think about what he was about to propose.

"Once Marjorie is discharged, I think both of you should come stay with me in Los Angeles. I know it sounds crazy, Char, but just think about it for a minute; Marjorie can get her out-patient chemotherapy at Cedar-Sinai Hospital in Los Angeles and you guys won't have to live out of a Philadelphia hotel room or a Ronald McDonald House." Cooper's voice softened as he told her, "You and Marjorie can stay with me and I can spend real quality time with the both of you."

Quietly, bitterly, Charlotte finally spoke up and asked him, eerily calm, "Don't you need to consult your wife before you invite the other woman and the lovechild to stay?"

Cooper's hopeful, childlike smile died on his lips as his heart dropped into his stomach. He felt an initial, searing burn of panic and shame at being found out. His cheeks felt hot and his ears buzzed, and Cooper struggled through the disgraced, mortified haze to try and recover.

"You know about Jordana?" he asked, his heart pounding hard in his chest. "Who- I mean, how-"

"She called while you were in the shower."

Cooper felt sick to his stomach. This was the absolute worst of the worse case scenarios. He tried to assess the damage. "So, you talked to her?"

"I did."

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Cooper swallowed hard and rubbed his throbbing temple. He could feel a major migraine coming as he imagined all the lies Jordana had probably fed Charlotte about the last six years. It was definitely time to throw himself on her mercy and apologize.

"I'm so sorry," he told her sincerely, desperately. "I wanted to tell you myself. I kept trying to tell you, but I could never get you alone at the right time or long enough, and the few times I did, I couldn't get the words out." He admitted, "It was stupid and selfish," adding, "But a big part of me just wanted to pick up where we'd left off and pretend that the last six years hadn't happened."

Charlotte stayed quiet and refused to turn and face him. Cooper thought it was strange that she never pushed his hand off her hip or put any distance between them whatsoever, but he wasn't fooled into thinking that meant she wasn't furious with him.

"I know I sound like a hypocrite," Cooper told her. "I ended our relationship because you withheld from me, and I turned around and did the same exact thing." It was a desperate attempt at lightening the mood when he half-joked, "Can't we just call it even?"

Charlotte turned on him so fast that he almost got whiplash. "No, we can't just call it even," she spat. "We're nowhere near even." Cooper hung his head because he couldn't bear to see the hurt reflected in her pale green eyes. "I lied about a marriage that had been over and done with for _seven years_ before we even met, but you- you're still fucking married."

Technically, that was true, but there was something about the way Charlotte said it that made Cooper stop and clarify, "I know- I know that sounds bad on the surface, but the marriage is _over_, Charlotte. It's been over for two years now-"

"The 'our marriage emotionally ended years ago' crap isn't gonna work on me, Cooper. I'm not a dumb girl. I've been around the block and I know better than anyone the bullshit men tell themselves so they can go around cheatin' on their wives with a clear conscience."

Cooper heard the crack in Charlotte's voice and he felt like an insensitive ass. It was so obvious now; so painfully, heartbreakingly obvious. He wondered how in the world he could've missed it six years ago.

Charlotte's ex-husband had cheated on her.

"Look at me." He waited until she slowly, defiantly met his eye to tell her, "I am not having an affair with you, Charlotte. I've been legally separated from my wife for the last eighteen months." He added bitterly, "The only reason she's still my wife is because her lawyers are refusing to file our _signed_ divorce papers with the clerk's office until I give into their demands." He shrugged helplessly. "I'm living in legal limbo."

Charlotte was quiet for a long time. She just looked at him, judging, trying to gauge his sincerity as she skeptically nibbled her bottom lip in that way Cooper found so adorable. Finally, she admitted, "I-I thought…well, I thought you-"

"I know what you thought," he told her, shaking his head. "But it's not true."

Tired and drained, Charlotte settled back down onto the bed. She didn't say anything but he felt comfortable enough, brave enough to lie down beside her. Cooper grabbed her hand and held it tight.

They both languished in comfortable silence, staring at the ceiling until Charlotte finally ventured, "So, when you told me you needed to fly back to L.A. for a 'legal thing', you meant-"

"There's a court hearing tomorrow about our assets."

Charlotte nodded and they lapsed back into silence until he spoke up again, and said, "I'm glad you know, but it doesn't change anything. I meant what I said before. I want you and Marjorie to come stay with me." He squeezed her hand and turned to look at her face-to-face. "I still want that, Char. I want that more than anything."

Charlotte turned away from him and looked back up at the ceiling. Quietly, resigned, she sighed, "We've got more issues than a stack of magazines."

Cooper chuffed out a laugh. "Yeah, tell me about it."

"But you _are_ right about one thing." Charlotte smiled. "Marjorie's doctors are planning to discharge her from the hospital tomorrow morning. They've given her the green light to finish her chemotherapy out-patient."

"That-that's amazing," he told her, practically giddy with excitement. "That's the best news I've ever heard. Now, you and Marjorie can come back to L.A. with me, and-"

"Not so fast." Charlotte looked at him. "You just spent the last week lying to me. How can I trust you after that? How am I supposed to give you another chance?"

"I don't know," he answered, being totally honest and genuine. "But I what _do_ know is I should've given you another chance six years ago, so maybe, hopefully, you can learn from my mistake."

Cooper felt the suffocating grip around his heart loosen when Charlotte finally smiled and hedged, "I suppose Marjorie spendin' quality time with her daddy isn't the worst idea I've ever heard, especially with the holidays comin' up."

He grinned. "So, you'll come? You'll come out to L.A.?" Charlotte rolled her eyes at his childlike excitement, but when she smiled, he knew he had her. "Oh, this is going to be so much fun. You won't regret it, I promise."

**...TBC...**

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A/N: Sorry for the long delay, but I hope it was worth the wait! REVIEWS PLEASE! :-)


	19. Cross My Heart

**Chapter Nineteen: Cross My Heart**

Marjorie was happy to be released from the hospital, but what she found most exciting was the news that she would be flying on an airplane for the very first time. The little girl had insisted, come hell or high water, that she get the window seat and spent the entire five-hour flight with her face pressed up against the glass. She was completely fascinated by the sky and the plane, and had a million probing questions for her parents.

_How do airplanes fly? Are they faster than cars? Why do we have to wear seatbelts? What is turbulence? Why is there turbulence? Can I have French fries instead of pretzels? How can we fly through the clouds? Do they give us parachutes if something bad happens? Where are all the birds? Where are all the balloons that kids lose? Why can't I see God's Heaven? Can we fly this plane to the moon? Why not? What about Pluto?_

Cooper and Charlotte worked together to answer all the questions that had actual answers, but it was exhausting. Three hours into the flight, they ordered a couple of mimosas just to take the edge off. It was a huge relief when the plane finally landed and taxied into their gate.

"Alright-y, Munchkin," Cooper announced, standing up and stepping out into the aisle of the first class cabin. He pulled their bags out of the overhead compartment, shouldered the heavy carry-ons, and prompted her, "Are you ready to take Hollywood by storm?"

"Yep." Marjorie unbuckled her seatbelt and climbed over her mother's legs into the aisle. She took her Spiderman backpack from Cooper and asked him, "Dr. Cooper, are we gonna go to your house now?"

Earlier that morning, Charlotte had taken the reins on explaining the cross-country trip to their daughter. She'd kept her explanation simple: _you're well enough to leave the hospital but we can't go home just yet. You still need regular chemotherapy and there just isn't a good enough hospital near our house. There is, however, a great hospital near Dr. Cooper's house so he's invited us to come stay with him. Does that sound like fun?_

The resounding 'yes!' had meant the world to Cooper.

"Straight to my house, Kidd-o," he confirmed, hanging back so Charlotte could exit the row and take Marjorie by the hand to lead her out of the plane. He caught up with them at the gate and they walked together; Marjorie in the middle, holding tight to both her parent's hands.

An hour later, Cooper pulled his sedan into the driveway of the Hollywood Hills home he'd bought and shared with Jordana during their marriage. Ironically, it felt a lot more like home knowing she wasn't there anymore. The 'For Sale' sign tacked into the manicured front lawn, however, was a gross reminder that she'd left her mark – financially, at least.

"Here we are," Cooper announced, turning off the engine. "Home sweet home."

Marjorie unbuckled her seatbelt and stood up in the backseat, draping herself over the back of the passenger-side headrest and wrapping her arms tight around her mother's neck. "Do I get my own room?" she asked Cooper, her big blue eyes pleading.

"Of course, you big goofball," he replied with a quick smile.

Cooper glanced at Charlotte's profile. She'd been smiling and pleasant all day long, but he could still detect some underlying hurt, anger, and resentment. Granted, she had agreed to move herself and her daughter cross-country for him, but he was still far from forgiven.

"Well, c'mon," Marjorie prompted them, tearing out of the car, across the wet grass, and up the walk. The little girl had her whole body pressed up against the front door, waiting for them rather impatiently, before Cooper could even unbuckle his seatbelt.

A smile graced Charlotte's lips and, reaching for her own seatbelt, she warned him, "She's in fine form today."

Cooper chuckled and reassured her, "It's okay." He smiled. "She's my kid and I love her, no matter what form she takes."

Marjorie had no patience with her slowpoke parents and stomped her feet on the doorstep, and called, "Momma! Dr. Cooper! C'mon!"

"We're coming," Cooper called back, exiting the car and ambling up behind his daughter. He unlocked the front door and let her burst inside the house. If she broke anything, he'd just take it out of Jordana's half of the sale. Or at least that's what he enjoyed telling himself.

Charlotte walked up behind him. He could tell she was very hesitant about entering another woman's house but Marjorie didn't give her much of a choice. "C'mon, momma!" the little girl hollered from the top of the staircase. "Come find our rooms!"

"Hold your horses, Ladybug," Charlotte replied, slowly crossing the threshold. She scanned the pleasant living room décor and remarked, "It's lovely. Your, uh…your…"

Cooper watched Charlotte struggle to define Jordana and offered, "My soon-to-be ex-wife."

"Yes. _That_." Her mouth twisted into an angry line, but she recovered quickly and schooled her expression. The compliment was obviously a bitter pill to swallow, but Charlotte forced herself to say matter-of-factly, "Your soon-to-be ex-wife has nice taste."

Without thinking and really just hoping to lighten the mood, Cooper quipped, "That goes without saying. I mean, she married me, didn't she?"

Crap.

Cooper winced when he heard how pompous he sounded and saw how not amused Charlotte was by the remark. Way to go, Freedman, he told himself; way to go and shoot yourself in the foot.

Lucky for him, Marjorie's excited squeal cut the tension. "Momma!" the little girl shrieked, running down the hallway from which she'd disappeared and appearing again at the top of the stairs. "Momma, come look at my room!" She sucked in an excited breath and told her mother, "It's pink and pretty, and there's a bunch of dolls and a dollhouse, and everything!"

Charlotte immediately turned to Cooper, one question written all over her pretty face.

"I, uh, I called Violet last night after you agreed to come stay with me," Cooper confessed. "I asked her to fix up the guest room so it would be a little more kid-friendly."

Charlotte's whole demeanor softened. She didn't say anything as they climbed the stairs and followed a very eager Marjorie into her bedroom. The changes were relatively small but they totally transformed the room; the cumbersome quilt that usually covered the queen-sized bed had been traded in for a fluffy pink duvet cover adorned with bright, colorful butterflies; the early-American artwork had been replaced by cartoon decals on the wall; the bookshelf had been emptied of medical texts and filled with Dr. Seuss; a Victorian-style dollhouse sat waiting at the foot of the bed with dolls nestled inside.

Violet had truly done an amazing job. And judging from the ridiculously crooked Batman decal stuck to the wall, seven-year-old Lucas had also lent a helping hand.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, Dr. Cooper," Marjorie breathed, worn out and winded by all the excitement. "Thank you, thank you, thank you." She used what little energy she had left to throw herself against him, wrap both arms around his legs and squeeze tight. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you," the little girl repeated until her voice caught and she starting coughing.

Cooper kneeled down to his daughter's level and gently patted her back. He loved to see her so happy and exuberant, but hated that her compromised health denied her the boundless energy enjoyed by other kids her age.

"You're very welcome, Cutie pie," he told her, gathering her up under the premise of a hug when, in reality, he just wanted her to lean against him so she could rest.

Charlotte had been stunned silent by the enormity of Cooper's thoughtful gesture, but she sprung into action when Marjorie obviously needed her."C'mere, Bug," she cooed, stepping forward and picking up the child. "You've had a heckuva day."

Cooper watched Charlotte fuss over their daughter and marveled at something he'd always noticed when dealing mothers and their children; provided the mother was strong enough and the child small enough, there was no place a child loved more than his or her mother's hip.

"Do you wanna take a rest?" Charlotte asked Marjorie, adding, "Your new bed looks mighty comfy."

"No." The little girl insisted, "I wanna play with my dollhouse with Dr. Cooper."

It felt really good to be wanted, which is why it was so hard for Cooper to admit, "Actually, Munchkin, I have a super-important appointment downtown in forty-five minutes, so I need to leave." He was quick to add, "But I'll hurry back and I promise, we can play tonight – just you and me."

Marjorie's brow furrowed and she was completely incredulous when she asked him, "What's so super-important?"

Cooper felt Charlotte's eyes on him. She was obviously waiting to see if he would lie to their daughter like he'd lied to her.

He rubbed his temple and stammered, "I, uh…well, it's a, uh-"

Charlotte interrupted him and addressed their daughter, "It's none of your stinkin' business, Miss Nosey." She shot Cooper a quick smile; the kind that showed they were not only on the same page but they were on the same team, and she was going to cover his ass this go-round.

Marjorie made a face and begrudgingly grumbled, "Yes, ma'am."

Charlotte nodded her approval at her daughter's answer. "Good girl," she told her, setting her down and nudging her toward Cooper. "Now, go on and give Dr. Cooper a nice hug so he can leave."

Marjorie shuffled over to Cooper right as he knelt back down to her level. "Bye, Dr. Cooper," she said, hooking her arms around his neck and squeezing hard. "I hope you have fun at your super-important thingamajig."

Cooper seriously doubted he would have fun at his divorce proceedings, but he still smiled and replied, "Thank you. That's very sweet." He added, totally heartfelt, "And I promise we'll play dollhouse when I get home tonight, m'kay?"

"I guess so," Marjorie sulked.

Charlotte tried to hide her smile. Her daughter had known Cooper for less than a week and already, a game wasn't a game without him. "Now, Ladybug," she chided. "Stop guilt trippin' poor Dr. Cooper. He's gonna leave regardless of how bad you make him feel."

"Momma's right," Cooper interjected, the guilt etched onto his face. "I have to leave, Honey. I don't have a choice-"

The five-year-old argued, "But you're an adult!"

"And adults have important responsibilities and obligations." Charlotte looked pointedly at her daughter and reminded her, "You and I had this discussion last year, Bug, when I was on-call at the hospital. Of course I didn't want to leave you, but it was outta my control." She smiled at the little girl. "But I always came right back home at the end of my shift, didn't I?"

Marjorie had a handful of Cooper's jacket and refused to let go until he promised he'd come right back home, too.

Forty-five minutes later, Charlotte and Marjorie were sitting cross-legged in front of the Victorian dollhouse, completely engrossed in an intense game of Ken-loves-Barbie-but-Stacie-wants-to-wreck-their-wedding when the doorbell rang.

"Hold that thought, Bug," Charlotte said to her daughter, laying Stacie down in the living room of the dollhouse. "I'll be right back."

Charlotte descended the stairs, walked into the foyer, and pressed her face up against the door to look out the peephole. All she could see was crazy curly hair but that was more than enough; she knew exactly who it was.

Charlotte opened the front door smiling like a fool. She'd never admit it but she'd actually missed her old drinking buddy slash tentative friend. "Well, I'll be damned," she drawled, "If it isn't the one and only Dr. Violet Turner!" Charlotte went in for a big hug but at the same time, she warned the other woman, "If you go and tell anyone I hugged you, 'specially Cooper, I will deny it."

Violet laughed and swore, "Your secret is safe with me." She suddenly arched an eyebrow and added, "Under one condition."

Charlotte chuffed out a nervous laugh. "God, I'm afraid to ask."

"Martini. Two olives. _On a tray_."

Charlotte face split into a huge grin. She stepped out of the doorway, motioned the other woman inside, and tried to pretend she wasn't already dying to have sit-down conversation with her old friend. "You drive a mighty hard bargain, Turner, but what the hell? I'm game."

Charlotte turned and walked in the direction she hoped would turn out to be the kitchen. Over her shoulder, she called, "Go ahead and grab a seat in the livin' room. I'll serve."

"Sounds good," Violet replied, peeling off her coat and throwing it over the back of an armchair. It never failed to surprise her how much homier this house felt with Jordana gone. And even more surprising, how having Charlotte around felt - well, it felt nice. Natural, almost.

Just under ten minutes later, Charlotte finally emerged carrying a tray of martinis. She looked a little perturbed and apologized, "Sorry it took so damned long. I opened the fridge and lo and behold, it was chock-full of rotten take-out." Charlotte set the tray down on the coffee table and groused, "I swear, that man's never met an expiration date he couldn't argue with."

Violet took custody of her martini - her amazing, amazing martini - and savored it with a small sip. _Perfect._

"You cleaned out Cooper's refrigerator?" she asked the blond, clearing her throat to keep from laughing. It seemed Charlotte hadn't thought twice about making the jump from ex-girlfriend to common law wife. Next thing she knew, Charlotte would probably throw out Cooper's porn collection and start pestering him to exercise more.

"It was like a junior high science project in there," Charlotte defended herself. "The milk was halfway to cheese and you don't even wanna know what the actual cheese looked like."

Violet had an old story about Cooper and TV dinners at the ready, but she never got the chance to tell it. Charlotte's mouth suddenly dropped open and she gasped, "You're married?" The shocked blond grabbed at the other woman's wedding band to make sure she wasn't seeing things. "You are," she realized aloud. "You're really married."

"I-uh, yeah, I am," Violet laughed, caught off-guard. She'd just assumed that Cooper had passed along the happy news in the natural course of getting reacquainted with Charlotte, but clearly, that was not the case. The blond looked genuinely surprised to find her sporting a ring.

"That's- God, Violet, that's great," Charlotte stammered, forcing a smile once the shock had worn off. "So, uh, who's the lucky fella?"

"Pete." Violet beamed. "It's always been Pete."

"I should've guessed as much," the blond laughed. "Y'all never could resist each other and I'm sure it doesn't hurt that y'all have a lil' moppet together." Charlotte sipped her martini and wondered aloud, "Speakin' of which, how's Lucas doin' these days?"

"Oh, he's great. He's a big second grader now; a far cry from that doughy toddler you saw last."

Charlotte suspected the martini was starting to loosen her up, because normally, she would never confess, "I hate how fast they grow up. You blink and they're five. Hell, it seems like just yesterday Marjorie was toddlin' around in bloomers and a floppy sun hat, carryin' around a sippy cup full of iced tea - which, of course, the lil' rascal always managed to spill in the backseat of my car." She joked, "My floormats are still sticky."

The deep, longing, maternal ache in Charlotte's voice didn't go unnoticed by Violet. She'd heard it a million times in the voices of Naomi's patients that she'd counseled through the pain of infertility. It was obvious, at least to her, that Charlotte either consciously or unconsciously craved another child before her biological clock timed out.

Violet thought about mentioning - innocently, of course - that Cooper had always wanted three kids. She stopped herself, though, because she knew Charlotte would see right through that ploy. Instead, she said, "I'll never forget the expression on Cooper's face when you called and he realized you'd had a baby. I've never seen him look so devastated." Violet was quick to add, "Devastated because he'd already missed so much; the pregnancy, the birth, her first words, her first steps-"

"I feel sick about that," Charlotte admitted, looking the part. "I spent all those years thinkin' the worst of him; thinkin' he'd turned his back on me and his baby. And all because I was too damned proud to be vulnerable and call him back."

"He would've been there for you and Marjorie." Violet told her, "He's been miserable without you."

Her head tilted downward, the blond nursed her martini and sighed, "Cooper married my evil twin eight months after I left. He couldn't have been too heartbroken."

Violet's small smile belied the seriousness of Charlotte's accusation. "Don't tell Cooper I told you this, but I've always thought he married her _because_ he was heartbroken." She shrugged and said, "Jordana was his rebound girl and that's probably all she would've been, but then you disappeared and Cooper clung to her. It was classic transference; he tried to project all of his feelings for you onto her." Violet shook her head. "The marriage was - well, it was terrible. Jordana treated him like dirt; cheating on him, withholding sex and affection, refusing to have kids even though she knew full-well he wanted them when they got married. I was so relieved when she filed for divorce." Violet concluded, "And now that Cooper's spending time with you - someone he actually has a genuine, emotional connection with -, I think he's _finally_ starting to realize just how dysfunctional he and Jordana really were."

Charlotte blinked. "I had no idea things were that bad between 'em." She reflected back and remarked, "No wonder Cooper didn't wanna talk about it."

Violet smiled and admitted, "Well, to be honest, I think it being hurtful was only part of the reason he lied to you. More than anything, I think Cooper just wanted to spend time with you unencumbered by old nonsense."

"I know how that feels," the blond admitted, thinking back to her own lie six years ago. "It's so temptin' to try and forget the bad things in life if you've got somethin' good and beautiful to focus on."

"You're Cooper's something good and beautiful." Violet smiled. "And Marjorie, too, of course."

"I love how much he loves her."

"He loves you, too, y'know." Violet prompted the other woman with a growing smile, "And I suspect you still love him."

Charlotte fixed her eyes on her drink and refused to make eye-contact when she confessed, "Part of me will always love him."

"Have you told him that?"

Charlotte inclined her head to the side, opening her mouth to respond when suddenly, Violet shook her head and nodded behind Charlotte and to the left. It was universal Mom Code for 'little ears are listening'.

And sure enough, when Charlotte turned and looked over her left shoulder, she saw that Marjorie had crept down the stairs and was trying to position herself in the doorway so she could eavesdrop on their conversation.

"Marjorie Louise King," Charlotte accused. She was understandably nervous about just how much her daughter had overheard. "You know better than to listen in on people's personal, private, _adult_ conversations." She prompted the little girl, "How long have you been standin' there?

"I didn't hear nothin'," Marjorie insisted. "Ya'll talk too quiet."

Charlotte smiled despite herself. That answer was so quintessentially Marjorie.

Violet spoke up in defense of the little girl and said, "She just came down the stairs. I doubt she heard much of anything."

"Alright," Charlotte relented. "Consider this your warnin' but I best not catch you doin' it again, little miss."

"Alright," Marjorie intoned, sounding a lot like her mother. She suddenly stepped forward and boldly insinuated herself between Charlotte and Violet on the couch. The little girl wasn't the least bit shy when she turned to Violet and introduced herself. "Hi, I'm Marjorie King. I'm five-and-one-quarter but I'm not always bad. Only sometimes."

Violet instantly fell in love with the outspoken mini-Charlotte. "Well, everyone is bad every once and awhile," she told the little girl with a wink, adding, "And my name is Violet. I'm Cooper's best friend."

Marjorie sat up straight and tucked her feet underneath her bottom to appear taller. "No,_ I'm _Dr. Cooper's best friend," she asserted. "Y'know, he came all the way to Philadelphia just to see me and he even bought me my own dollhouse." She challenged Violet, "Has Dr. Cooper ever bought _you_ a dollhouse?"

"Marjorie, don't be rude," Charlotte chastised.

"Um, no," Violet admitted, laughing. "He's never bought me a dollhouse, but we go on vacation together every year."

Marjorie leaned forward expectantly. "Did ya'll ever go to Disneyland?"

"We sure did. Disneyland in Anaheim, California," Violet replied with a grin. "We rode the roller coaster with my son, Lucas, so many times that Cooper actually got a tummy ache."

"Did he barf?"

Charlotte rolled her eyes. "Marjorie," she chided.

"Well, did he?"

"Almost." Violet thought back and laughed, "I think he ate too much funnel cake before we got on the ride."

"You're not supposed to eat junk food," Marjorie told her very matter-of-factly, then sighed, "My momma was supposed to take me to Disneyland in Florida last year, but there was a stupid hurricane so we couldn't go."

Violet laughed, "Uh, oh. That's no fun." She smiled at Marjorie and suggested, "Well, maybe we can make a trip to Anaheim while you're here. I bet we'd have a lot of fun together!"

Marjorie grinned from ear to ear. "That sounds great," she shrieked, bouncing up and down in her seat.

Totally caught off-guard by the five-year-old earthquake, Violet very nearly spilled her drink. "Careful, careful," she told the little girl, licking the sloshed gin off her knuckle. "I don't want to wear this home."

Charlotte handed Violet a napkin and instructed her daughter, "Put in your tushy in the seat, please, and apologize to Dr. Violet."

"Sorry, Dr. Violet. It was an accident - I swear!"

"Don't swear," Charlotte interjected.

"Fine," Marjorie continued earnestly. "I guess I don't swear, but I sure do mean it."

Violet smiled at her best friend's daughter. "It's okay, honey. Accidents happen."

Once she was forgiven and back in everyone's good graces, Marjorie took a keen interest in the drink she'd nearly spilled. The little girl sniffed the air around the martini and wrinkled her nose. It was obvious she didn't like the smell of gin, but even more obvious was the fact that Marjorie wanted to be one of the girls. "Can I have one?" she asked, hopeful.

"Oh, no, honey," Violet automatically answered. "This is a drink for adults only and you're-"

"Sure, you can have one," Charlotte told her daughter, standing up and walking into the kitchen. She returned seconds later with what genuinely appeared to be a martini. Handing it to the little girl, she cautioned her, "Try not to spill it everywhere, Ladybug."

"Wow," Marjorie breathed, reverently cupping the glass with both hands. "I have my very own, very first-est adult drink!"

Violet looked mortified.

Charlotte smiled at the other woman's shock and horror, but decided she should probably let her in on the secret before Violet called Social Serves on her ass. "Don't go and get your panties into a wad, Turner," Charlotte said, lowering her voice so only Violet could overhear. "It's just two olives sittin' in cold tap water. The kid doesn't know the difference."

Marjorie unwittingly confirmed that statement seconds later when she took a big gulp of her 'adult drink' and declared, "Mmm, it's yummy!"

"Glad to hear it, Bug," Charlotte replied with a laugh, patting her daughter on the head.

As soon as she met Violet's eye, both women couldn't help but giggle. And even though she didn't understand the joke one bit, Marjorie giggled right along with them.

One hour and several martinis - both real and fake - later, Cooper finally walked through the front door. His tie was pulled loose around his neck and he was dragging his feet. It certainly didn't take a genius to surmise that the court hearing hadn't gone his way.

Forcing a little fake enthusiasm, he greeted the special women in his life by saying, "Hola, Chicas."

"Uh, oh," Violet intoned, getting a good look at him. "You're not wearing a happy face. What happened?"

Cooper pulled off his jacket and tossed it over the back of a chair. "I don't wanna talk about it right now," he groaned, turning his attention onto Marjorie and offering up a big smile. "I promised the little munchkin a game of dollhouse and- wait, why is she holding a martini?"

Charlotte and Violet looked at each other and laughed.

Marjorie, however, continued to be totally oblivious. She thrust her drink up toward Cooper and asked, "D'ya want some, Dr. Cooper? It's really yummy!"

"Charlotte, I can't believe you would-" Cooper's outrage stopped short when he grabbed the faux-tini and gave it a good sniff. "Okay, never mind," he amended, adding sarcastically, "But way to go and set a good example for the young and impressionable among us."

"Please," Charlotte scoffed. "Big Daddy had me mixin' drinks for company at her tender age and I turned out just fine."

Cooper couldn't argue with that. Despite Charlotte's prickly exterior and emotional hang-ups, she had turned out just fine. Very fine, actually.

"C'mon, Dr. Cooper," Marjorie insisted, grabbing at his sleeve and already trying to pull him up the stairs. "You promised you'd play with me."

"I did promise, indeed," he said, excusing himself and following his daughter up into her bedroom.

Cooper was surprised when the little girl made a point of closing the door behind them. It made sense seconds later, however, when Marjorie started dancing around, giddy with excitement, and chanting, "I know somethin' you don't know! I know somethin' you don't know!"

He kneeled down to her level and laughed, "Oh, yeah? Is it a really good secret?"

"Yeah," Marjorie confirmed, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet.

Cooper played along, trying his best to coax it out of her. "If you tell me, it can be _our_ secret. I won't tell anyone else."

"You promise?"

"Cross my heart, I do."

Content with that pledge, Marjorie leaned forward, cupped both hands around his ear, and whispered, "I heard my momma tell Dr. Violet that she loves you."

**...TBC...**

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A/N: Yeah, I know. My update speed continues to suck...Forgive me?


	20. Family

**Chapter Twenty: Family**

Marjorie balanced on one leg like a curious pelican, hopped twice, and then plopped down onto the carpet in front of Cooper. "So, you and my momma love each other?" she confirmed, twisting her long ponytail round and round her index finger.

Cooper nodded. "Of course we love each other," he asserted, trying his level best to explain away whatever the little girl had overheard and most likely taken out of context. "Your momma and I are friends and friends love each other."

Marjorie completely missed the point he was trying to make. Instead, she titled her head to the side, giggled, and sang, "Momma and Dr. Cooper sittin' in a tree, K – I – S – S – I – N – G!"

Cooper felt his face flush pink.

"Okay, okay," he laughed, nervous that he was quickly losing control of their conversation. "Your momma and I _do_ love each other," he reiterated, adding, "But we…we're not- we're not boyfriend and girlfriend." He tried to gauge little girl's understanding. "Does that make sense?"

No, of course it didn't make sense. Cooper didn't understand it himself.

Marjorie's delicate brow furrowed. "Don't you think she's pretty?"

Taken aback, Cooper impressed upon the little girl, "Oh, honey, I think your momma is _gorgeous_."

"Then, why don't you wanna be her boyfriend?"

Cooper didn't know what to say to that. His cute-as-a-button daughter was looking at him, her big blue eyes wide and questioning, and it was hard to deny her anything – even if it was the answer to a question she had no business asking in a conversation that never should've strayed this far.

"Adult love is complicated, Munchkin." He offered a tight smile. "You can love someone – I mean, _really_ love someone, but that doesn't guarantee you'll get the happy ending you want."

Cooper was convinced he was making zero sense, so it genuinely surprised him when Marjorie spoke up and asked, "Like in the end of _Pocahontas_ when John Smith and Pocahontas can't stay together?"

He smiled. "That's _exactly_ it, honey," he said with an indulgent wink, wondering how in the world he ended up with such an amazing kid. Oh, yeah, he told himself; she was all Charlotte - every adorable, bossy inch of her.

Marjorie chewed thoughtfully on the end of her ponytail until it was wet and slimy. "I think John Smith was stupid for leavin' her," the little girl asserted matter-of-factly. "He gave up too easy."

Cooper knew that Marjorie very well could've been talking about him. Six years ago, he'd been the stupid one. He'd been the one that gave up too easy. And it had cost him dearly.

"Ladybug," Charlotte called, her voice far enough away that Cooper placed her in the foyer. He heard the door shut and realized Violet had gone home for the night, then a few minutes later, Charlotte appeared in the doorway of the bedroom. "Bug," she told her daughter. "It's time for you to get ready for bed."

Marjorie immediately latched onto Cooper's sleeve. "I want Dr. Cooper," she said around a mouthful of ponytail.

Charlotte grimaced. "Stop chewin' on your hair." When her daughter spit out the slimy piece of hair, Charlotte smiled ever-so-slightly and confirmed, "So, you want Dr. Cooper to put you to bed tonight?"

"Yeah," Marjorie confirmed, rubbing her sleepy eyes with her free hand.

"Okay," Charlotte replied with a smile. "I guess momma gets the night off tonight," she teased, wondering aloud, "Whatever am I gonna do with my idle self?"

Marjorie had a suggestion. "Go have another 'tini."

Cooper smiled and looked to Charlotte, who laughed and replied, "I just might do that, Ladybug."

Charlotte walked over and planted a kiss on the little girl's mouth. "Stop it, momma," Marjorie whined, climbing onto the bed and grabbing a pillow to hold over to face. "You're embarrassin' me in front of Dr. Cooper."

"Well, excuse me, then," Charlotte laughed, taking the whole thing in stride. She made her way over to the door, but stopped in the doorway to throw over her shoulder, "Night, Bug."

Marjorie peeked out from underneath the pillow. "Night, momma."

Cooper had only executed his daughter's bedtime routine once before, so naturally, they hit a few bumps in the road. First, the tender-headed little girl hadn't wanted her hair brushed, then toothpaste ended up dribbling down the front of her nightgown, and last but certainly not least, Marjorie had accidentally dropped the bar of soap into the toilet. But despite all that chaos, Cooper still enjoyed every minute of it.

It was nice to finally feel like a dad.

"Good night, Munchkin," he said, closing the storybook Marjorie had picked out. "I'll see you tomorrow morning when you wake up." He turned off her bedside lamp and stood up. Backing out of the room with a smile, he promised, "I'll make my famous blueberry pancakes for breakfast. They'll rock your world and turn your tongue blue."

Marjorie was obviously jet-lagged and fading fast, but she managed to grin and say, "Neat-o," which Cooper knew for a fact he'd taught her.

"Yeah," he agreed, his smile coming from way deep down. "Neat-o."

Cooper stepped out into the hallway and pulled the door closed, smiling all the way into the guest room where his smile turned into a different kind altogether; Charlotte was languishing half-asleep in his bed and she looked good enough to eat - no pun intended, but Cooper wouldn't say he hadn't thought about it.

"Well, this is a nice surprise," he remarked, closing the door and crawling into bed behind her. She was warm and soft, and smelled amazing.

Cooper vividly remembered one birthday from a couple years back. It had fallen on the Sunday after a Friday night fight with Jordana and they were barely on speaking terms, and since Violet had been busy with Lucas that day, Cooper had been left to his own devices.

After treating himself to a shiny, new DVD player at Sears, Cooper had wandered aimlessly around the mall until he'd found himself browsing the perfume counter in Bloomingdale's. The sales woman had been so patient with him. She must've given him fifty test strips to try before he'd finally found Charlotte's scent.

And even though Cooper had managed to convince himself it meant nothing, he'd kept a bottle of _Blue_ by Ralph Lauren tucked into his medicine cabinet all the years since.

"I'm dog-tired, Coop," Charlotte murmured into her pillow. "You can stay in my bed, but I'm goin' to sleep."

Cooper smiled wryly. "Actually," he told her. "You're in _my_ bed."

Charlotte rolled over to face him. "What're you talkin' about? This is the guest room." She sassed him, "The master is down the hall and to the left, or don't you know the way 'round your own house?"

"I moved out of the master bedroom and into the guest room a long time ago," he confessed, looking deep into Charlotte's eyes and watching the surprise register there. "If you'd bothered to unpack your suitcase, you would've found my clothes in the closet," he teased her with a weak smile.

Cooper could see Charlotte was hurting for him, but she didn't pretend to be sorry. She just rolled back over onto her side, taking his arm and wrapping it tight around her waist, and holding it there. She patted his hand twice. "Well," she cleared her throat. "You're crazy if you think I'm sleepin' in the bed you shared with your - whatever she is." Charlotte settled back against him. "But I suppose this bed is big enough for the both of us."

"What if Marjorie sees us?"

"Well, your clothes aren't goin' anywhere, first of all," she replied, keeping his arm tight around her. "But if they were to go somewhere, we best lock the door, because she doesn't knock."

Cooper chuckled softly, but the enormity of this wasn't lost on him. "After I lied to you, I thought it might take a while for me to get back into the bed - so to speak."

"I'm tryin' to be the bigger person here, Coop," she told him, elbowing him hard in the gut. "Just go with it."

"Yes, ma'am," he laughed, having gotten the wind knocked out of him. Then, smiling, he fished, "So, we're two adults living together under the same roof, sleeping in the same bed, potentially losing our clothes at the same time..." Cooper winced at how stupid he sounded, but he pressed forward. "I guess I'm just, uh, wondering what _we_ are?" He hesitated. "Because it sounds a lot like we're- I dunno, dating, maybe?"

"We're not datin'."

Cooper tensed. "Oh. Okay." He felt his heart drop into his stomach and he tried his best to recover. "Well, then...okay-"

"Relax, Coop," she told him, and he could hear the smile in her voice. "We're not datin' because we can't date around Marjorie. We can't prance around in naughty costumes or eat greasy take-out in the buff or leave our sex toys lyin' around the house. But we _can _try our hand at a relationship."

"There's a difference between dating and a relationship?"

"Datin' is screwin' around and hopin' it sticks," she told him, not bothering to sugarcoat it. "A relationship is adult. We'll take care of Marjorie together, eat dinner together, and sleep in the same bed together at the end of the day."

Cooper chuffed out a laugh. "You make it sound so domestic."

"Well, it is," she admitted. "You're the one that said we're a family and we are, so now, we need to function like one."

Cooper held her a little bit tighter and smiled. "I like the sound of that."

"Me, too," Charlotte agreed, closing her eyes and murmuring, "Night, Coop."

"Good night, Char."

Cooper laid in the dark holding Charlotte while she fell asleep. It was such a small thing, but it meant so much to him.

"Momma," an abrupt little voice asked from the doorway. "Momma?"

Cooper hoisted himself up on his elbow and spotted Marjorie shuffling into the bedroom. "Hey, honey," he cooed. "What's the matter?"

"I want my momma," Marjorie told him, her bottom lip trembling. "The tree outside my window is makin' scary shadows."

"Well, c'mere." Cooper made room between Charlotte and himself, and patted the bed. "Hop on up, Munchkin. You can sleep here tonight."

A huge grin spread across the little girl's face and she scampered up onto the bed, immediately grabbing a handful of Charlotte's shirt for security. And even though Cooper spent the night with Marjorie's knee in his back and Charlotte's elbow in his ribs, he'd never been happier. This was his family.

**...TBC...**

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A/N: What's this? A timely update? Hello, rockstar! REVIEW, PLEASE! :-)

Fair warning: The next chapter will skip ahead three months...


	21. Merry Christmas

**Chapter Twenty-One: Merry Christmas  
**

-Three Months Later-

Cooper pushed open the front door of the house, lugging a giant six-foot Christmas tree behind him. "Ho, ho, ho!" he shouted in a deep, jolly voice, dragging the bulky Spruce into the foyer and kicking the door closed with his foot. "Merry Christmas!"

At first, Cooper had been resistant to the whole idea of celebrating Christmas. He'd wanted his daughter – his half-Jewish daughter, regardless of whether she knew it or not – to explore her roots. But one look at Marjorie's quivering lip when she'd heard Santa Claus might not come that year had put things into perspective.

There would be plenty of time, he'd realized, for Marjorie to discover her rich heritage once she was old enough to appreciate it. But right now, she was just a little kid who loved Christmas. It would be cruel to take that away from her, especially after the intense chemotherapy she'd endured the last three months.

"Is that our tree?" Marjorie asked, appearing wide-eyed at the bottom of the stairs.

It was hard for Cooper not to wince every time he looked at his daughter now; the little girl had lost eight pounds, her sunny blond hair had turned dull and fragile to the touch, and sometimes she was so white that he could count the three freckle constellation across the bridge of her nose. But she was still cute-as-a-button, if you wanted his opinion, and melted his heart every chance she got.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, standing the tree right-side up and shaking out its branches. "What do you think? Did I pick a good one?"

Marjorie gazed up at the apex of the tree just a few feet shy of the ceiling. She blinked slowly and deliberately, and Cooper could tell from the look of her that she wouldn't be awake too much longer. And it was only five o'clock.

"It's pretty," she told him, gently petting the tree's scratchy bristles. "And really, really tall."

Marjorie's sweet, subdued smile gutted him, but he put on a brave face. "It _is_ tall, isn't it?" he prompted her, widening his eyes for dramatic effect. "I bet once-upon-a-time it was the tallest tree in the whole forest!"

His daughter's pallor changed in an instant and she smiled. "It was the king," she remarked, scrunching up her nose. "And we're the Kings, too," she giggled.

Cooper wasn't about to ruin such a cute moment by pointing out he wasn't a King. Although, to be honest, over the last three months Charlotte and Marjorie had adopted him into their little family. He ate dinner with them. He sorted laundry with them. He tucked them into bed at night. It was mundane but it was fabulous. It didn't matter that they had different last names. They were a fully-functioning family. And they were happy.

"Oh, look at that," Charlotte declared, emerging from the kitchen with a big smile. She wiped her damp hands on a lime green dishtowel. "That's one heckuva Christmas tree," she said with a laugh, adding, "I can't believe somethin' that big fit onto the roof of your lil' sedan."

"Well," he admitted, leaning the tree against the wall. "It almost fell off at Wabash and North Evergreen while I was stopped at a red light."

Charlotte gave him one of those demure smiles where he couldn't tell if she was laughing at him or with him. It didn't matter, though, as she tucked the dishtowel into her back jean pocket, walked up to him, and planted a kiss on his lips.

Marjorie knew her momma and Dr. Cooper were dating. She'd figured it out pretty quickly and accepted it even quicker. But that didn't mean the little girl didn't react like anything other than five-year-old little girl every time she saw them kiss.

"A-woo-woo," Marjorie teased, dissolving into bouts of giggles.

Charlotte drew back, reluctantly separating herself from Cooper, and gave her daughter an arched eyebrow look. "That's more than enough of that," she told Marjorie. For emphasis, Charlotte pulled the dishtowel out of her back pocket and playfully, affectionately snapped the little girl on the bottom with it.

"Hey," Cooper laughed, immediately jumping to their daughter's defense. He scooped Marjorie up into his arms, hugged her close, kissed her temple, and pretended to fuss at Charlotte. "That's more than enough of _that_," he countered, sticking out his lower lip in an over-exaggerated pout. "Gentle," he cautioned her. "Precious cargo and all that."

Charlotte's heart smiled whenever she saw Cooper and Marjorie act in cahoots. It was cute as hell, regardless of the fact that it was usually the two of them pitted against her. "Just 'cause she's precious, Coop, doesn't mean she doesn't need a little tough love every now and again."

Cooper could see Charlotte's smile and the light shining in her eyes, and knew she was joking. But it - corporal punishment of their daughter being 'it' - was a touchy subject between them. The only fight they'd had the past three months came about when, after Marjorie had hurled a can of tomato soup across the kitchen mid-tantrum, Charlotte had bent the little girl over her knee and spanked her.

Of course, Charlotte hadn't hurt their daughter. She hadn't even left a mark. But the sight of it had still turned Cooper's stomach. He strongly opposed any kind of physical punishment, so he'd put his foot down – or tried to, at least.

Charlotte hadn't been very receptive to his criticism

They'd fought. No one had won. Nothing had been resolved. Except, maybe, for the fact that Marjorie had eaten tomato soup for dinner that night as part of a more creative punishment.

"Can we decorate the tree tonight?" Marjorie asked with both her arms looped tight around Cooper's neck. "Only _four _more days until Christmas," she reminded them, mirroring one of her momma's more exasperated expressions. "Santa Claus won't come if our tree isn't ready."

Cooper looked to Charlotte for her nod of approval. They were co-parenting, but he wasn't kidding himself; she was still the boss.

"Why don't you go back upstairs, Ladybug, and finish your letter to Santa Claus," Charlotte suggested to the impatient little girl. "Coop and I will wrestle the tree into the stand and call you when it's ready to be decked out."

Marjorie carefully considered the suggestion before agreeing, "M'kay, momma."

With a fond smile, Cooper set his daughter down and watched her amble back up the stairs.

As soon as Marjorie was out of sight, Charlotte turned back into Cooper. Seductively, she pressed the full length of her body into his, and hummed, "I missed you when you didn't come home last night."

Cooper's arms tightened around her waist. "I'm sorry. I tried to call, but it was late and you didn't pick up." His lips found that soft, sensitive spot just below her ear. He kissed it. "One of my patients – the Ackerman kid, the one with Hodgkin's lymphoma – was admitted to St. Ambrose last night. I stayed with him and his parents at the hospital." Cooper took a deep breath. "He's relapsed, Charlotte."

Cooper felt Charlotte's body tense and her pulse quicken.

The R-word wasn't spoken aloud in their house – not since Marjorie had achieved remission six days before Thanksgiving. She still needed chemotherapy to sustain her fight against the disease, but Cooper and Charlotte were cautiously optimistic. They didn't allow themselves to think about what would happen if Marjorie relapsed.

"I'm glad you were there with them," she said, holding on longer and tighter than she would otherwise. Cooper knew the prospect of relapse scared the hell out of her.

When Charlotte finally pulled back, she tried to look unaffected. "Before I forget," she began, clearing her throat. "You, uh, you got a call yesterday from your Realtor." Charlotte crossed her arms over her midsection. "Someone's made an offer on the house."

Cooper closed his eyes and swore softly.

The house had been on the market a little over six months now. And even though, as part of his on-going divorce settlement, Cooper was legally obligated to sell and split the proceeds with Jordana, Cooper had hoped the bad economy would keep prospective buyers at bay.

He didn't want to move. He loved this house. And he knew Marjorie and Charlotte loved this house, too.

"What are we gonna do?" Charlotte asked him, and he could tell she was worried.

"There's not much we can do," he told her, defeated. "If the buyer offers the asking price, I don't have a choice. I have to sell."

Charlotte rubbed her temple. "Well, I don't want to move. Marjorie is settled here."

"I don't want to move either, but I can't defy a court order."

Cooper watched Charlotte press her lips together and he knew she was holding back. There was obviously something she wanted to say to him, but for whatever reason, probably trying to avoid the second fight of their new relationship, she was restraining herself.

"Just say it, Charlotte, whatever _it_ is," he told her.

Charlotte turned her back on him to grab hold of the tree trunk. Wordlessly, she motioned for him to grab the other end and they carried it together into the living room. As they went to set it down, Charlotte finally came out with it.

"You need to let me buy your house."

Surprised, Cooper dropped his end of the Christmas tree with a loud thud. He looked up at her, taken aback and confused, and demanded, "What?"

"Your house," she repeated, rolling her lips back and pressing them together until they lost color. "You need to let me buy it."

"No," he asserted, flashing back to the practice buy-in. God, she'd humiliated him.

"Cooper," she sighed. "I've been thinkin' about this for awhile now. You need someone to buy your house and I've got the money." Charlotte appealed to him, "I know you wanna be the big, strong man here, but believe it or not, a big, strong man would do what's right for his child – no matter how much it hurt his pride."

Charlotte made a concession, telling him, "Now, I learned my lesson last time I went behind your back with money, so I haven't done anything yet. I wanted to discuss it with you first." She threw up her hands. "So, this is me – discussin' it."

Cooper wasn't sure what to say to that. He was surprised – almost confused – that Charlotte had thought to ask for his opinion. Six years ago, if she'd wanted something bad enough, his opinion wouldn't have mattered one lick.

"I, uh, let me think about it," he stammered, trying to be mature and meet her halfway. It was the least he could do after she'd been so adult about the whole thing.

"Okay, then." She forced a tight smile. "Thank you."

From the top of the stairs, Marjorie's voice carried like a foghorn, "Momma! How do you spell slingshot?"

Charlotte smiled despite herself as she called back to her daughter, "Marjorie Louise, Santa Clause is _not,_" she emphasized, "gonna bring you a slingshot for Christmas!"

Cooper laughed when Marjorie huffed, "We'll see 'bout that!"

XXX

Christmas morning came and hidden amongst the mountain of presents, Marjorie got her slingshot. The tag said it was from Santa Claus but really, Charlotte knew Cooper was the one behind it. Only Cooper would think that a slingshot and a five-year-old was a safe marriage.

It took Marjorie all of fifteen minutes to knock a picture off the wall and another twenty minutes after that before she'd decided to take aim at Lucas' behind. Needless to say, the slingshot was quickly confiscated and hidden in a shoebox.

"I want a turn!" Marjorie whined, trailing behind seven-year-old Lucas as he guided the remote control helicopter he'd gotten for Christmas around the small, fenced-in backyard.

"No, stop it," he insisted, pushing Marjorie's hand away from the controls. "You'll break it."

"I will _not_!"

When Lucas refused again, Marjorie ran into the house, into the living room, where Cooper and Charlotte were visiting with Violet and Pete in front of a roaring holiday fire. She threw herself into her mother's lap and tattled, "Lucas won't let me play with his helicopter!"

Charlotte set her white wine onto the coffee table before her daughter spilled it. "Well, it's _his_ toy, Marjorie," she told the little girl. "Why don't you go play with your scooter or pink cash register?" She prompted her daughter, "I bet Dr. Pete and Dr. Violet would like to see how you make change."

"Oh, yeah," Cooper spoke up, enthusiastically sitting forward. "Show everybody how you make change, Munchkin."

Marjorie glanced longingly toward the backyard but she knew her chances of getting her hands on the big kid toy were slim. "Alright," she sighed, deflating a little. "I'll show y'all."

Marjorie grabbed her pink cash register out from underneath the Christmas tree and crawled into Cooper's lap. The little girl, eager to show off, was so busy pushing buttons and pulling out paper money that she was oblivious to the worried, concerned look on Cooper's face.

Charlotte saw it first, but Violet was the first to ask, "What's wrong, Coop?"

Cooper moved his hands from Marjorie's clammy arms to the warm, sweaty back of her neck to her flushed forehead. "She has a fever," he finally admitted, his heart dropping into the pit of his stomach. "She's burning up."

"No," Charlotte argued, quickly, desperately grasping at another explanation. "She was just outside playin' with Lucas. I'm sure she's just-"

Cooper looked at Charlotte, pained, and shook his head.

Pete saw their exchange and took it upon himself to reach across and feel Marjorie's cheek. He didn't use the R-word but everyone knew what he was thinking when he said, "You need to take her to the hospital."

**...TBC...**

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A/N: The HUGE F'ING TWIST will be revealed next chapter …Review!


	22. Relapse

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Relapse  
**

Cooper was absolutely convinced that a Christmas Day admittance into the hospital would crush his daughter's spirit. He'd tried his best to prepare himself for the crying and the screaming and the general hysterics of a confused, frightened little five-year-old girl. But to his surprise, Marjorie went willingly. She'd handled the whole thing - the emergency room, the unfamiliar doctors and nurses, the needles, and the tests - with the kind of pluck Cooper was sure she'd inherited from her momma's side of things.

"Go fish!" Marjorie shouted, adjusting herself in her hospital bed and holding her four remaining cards around her face like a fan.

"Aw, man," Cooper intoned, snapping his fingers. He reached into the messy discard pile splayed out across the bedside tray, mixed things around, and picked a card. He made a face. "Well, that's not the card I wanted," he sighed, tucking the queen of hearts into his hand.

Marjorie sat up tall, tucked her feet underneath her bottom, and informed him rather loudly, "I only have four cards left!" She grinned at him. "I'm gonna win! I'm gonna win!"

Charlotte returned to the hospital room holding a latte. She was quick to chide her daughter, "Marjorie Louise King, I could hear you all the way down in the forth floor cafeteria." She set her coffee down and barked, "So, please, just shut your mouth and be quiet for once."

Marjorie's face crumpled and Cooper physically recoiled. He'd never heard Charlotte use such a harsh, unforgiving tone with their daughter before. And judging from Charlotte's own stricken expression, she'd never heard herself do it either.

"Aw, hell, Ladybug," Charlotte sighed, clearly beating herself up on the inside. "Momma didn't mean that, okay? Momma's just cranky."

Cooper's heart ached for Charlotte. She was trying so hard to keep it together and stay strong for everyone else, but he could see it was beginning to take its toll on her.

"Five minute intermission," he told Marjorie, laying his cards face-down on the bedside table. "Momma and I need to have a little powwow out in the hallway." Cooper stood up and took Charlotte by the elbow, steering her out of the room. With a smile, he threw back over his shoulder, "You better not peek at my cards while I'm gone."

Marjorie grinned and he knew that was exactly what she was going to do as soon as the door closed.

Charlotte followed Cooper out of the room and into the hallway without protest. When he turned to face her, he stopped short when he saw the tears brimming in her pale green eyes.

"I'm losing it, Coop," she choked out. "I can't believe I snapped at her like that."

Cooper touched Charlotte's chin and tilted her face up. "Look at me, Charlotte," he said, coaxing her into making eye-contact with him. "You are the most amazing mother. Marjorie is so lucky to have you, but you need to cut yourself some slack. You can't be strong all the time. Sometimes," he told her, "you just need to let yourself feel it."

Charlotte folded into him and hugged him tight. Against his chest, she murmured, "When I was waitin' in line to buy coffee, I started thinkin' about everything and it just swallowed me up."

"You have nothing to worry about," he told her with a smile. "Marjorie is her mother's daughter; she's a fighter."

She sniffled and laughed, but in the very next breath, she insisted, "It's more than that, Coop. I'm worried about oversteppin' with the house. I'm worried about gettin' dragged into your divorce. I'm worried about losin' my job back in Alabama. I'm worried about Marjorie bein' outta school for too long. I'm worried about her bein' raised away from her home and her family and her friends, and her pets, even."

He offered up a small, subdued smile. "Yeah, I've never seen a little girl call home before and ask to speak to a horse."

Charlotte laughed through her tears. "She loves that horse like it was her own baby. She shouldn't have to live without it."

Cooper got the sense that Charlotte regretted bringing Marjorie out to California. After all, the trip had only been slated as something temporary so that Marjorie could receive treatment, but now, with her likely relapse, Marjorie's treatment would start all over again from square one. There was no telling when they'd get to go home again, which, for Cooper, suited him just fine. He got to keep his family tucked into his back pocket. But he acknowledged that it had to be difficult for Charlotte and especially difficult for Marjorie.

"We'll make it work," he promised her. "You can buy the house and I promise I'll try and protect you from my divorce. I mean, so far, so good, right? And I can't do anything about your job in Alabama, but I could ask Addison to let you pick up some hours at the practice. And Marjorie will be fine school-wise. We can hire a tutor if you're worried, but I'm not. She's such a smart kid. She'll catch up no problem." He smiled, hoping that Charlotte could see he was being completely genuine. "I know California isn't your home anymore and it's never been Marjorie's home, but this can still work, Charlotte. We'll make it work."

Charlotte's steady gaze didn't waver. "I'm not movin' here for good," she told him. "I refuse to raise children here."

"Just say you'll stay until she's back on the mend."

"You're assumin' she's sick again."

Cooper grimaced. "Come on, Char," he appealed to her, giving her hand a gentle, supportive squeeze. "The blood work isn't back yet, but you and I both know what it's going to show; Marjorie's relapsing."

Charlotte shut down and refused to talk to him anymore after he'd said that. She just wasn't ready to accept it yet, but sure enough, Marjorie's doctor delivered the same verdict less than an hour later.

With the blood test results sitting center stage on his desk, Dr. Sanders broke the news as gently as possible. "I'm sorry," he told them. "But Marjorie's lab work shows that she's having a resurgence of her disease."

Even though she'd spent the last hour giving him the cold shoulder, Cooper reached across the divide, grabbed Charlotte's hand, and held it tight.

"This isn't the end of the road," Cooper reassured her. "I've seen dozens of cases like Marjorie's over the years and with the right treatment, somewhere between fifty to seventy percent of these kids can achieve a second remission." He squeezed Charlotte's hand. "Marjorie _will be_," he emphasized, "one of those kids."

Charlotte was more stoic. "What are our options?"

Dr. Sanders sat forward in his chair and leaned his elbow against Marjorie's thick medical file. "In my opinion, you have three viable options: a new, more aggressive round of chemotherapy, a number of experimental drugs that have shown promising results in clinical trials-"

Charlotte cut him off, "No experimental drugs."

"I agree," Cooper said, quick to back her decision. "There are too many unknown variables in play."

Dr. Sanders nodded. "Then, I'd say your last and best option is a stem cell transplant."

Charlotte sat up a little straighter. "Wait a minute," she interjected. "I was told by Marjorie's pediatric oncologist, Dr. Sydney Murphy, back when she was being treated at the Children's Hospital of Philadelphia, that they'd tested Marjorie and discovered she had a very rare tissue type; much too rare to find a donor in the National Registry."

"That's true," Dr. Sanders conceded. "I put in a call to the National Registry myself and spoke at length with one of their coordinators, and they are unable to accommodate your daughter's special needs at this time."

Cooper tried and failed to hide his mounting frustration. "You just said a stem cell transplant was Marjorie's best option, but now, in the next breath, you're saying it's not an option." He challenged the doctor, "So, which is it? Is it an option or not?"

Dr. Sanders stood up, rounded his desk, and leaned against the front. Crossing his arms, he asked them, "Off the record?"

"Say what you need to say," Charlotte told him with a nod.

Dr. Sanders nodded back his thanks, then confided in them, "We can always try another round of chemotherapy, but in my experience, kids who relapse as quickly as Marjorie have a very high chance of relapsing a second time. For real, long-term remission, she's going to need more than just chemotherapy. She's going to need a stem cell transplant. Now," he cleared his throat. "The good news is we can buy ourselves time with chemotherapy while we wait for a donor."

"However," Dr. Sanders continued, his hands finding his pockets. "I've treated enough children with rare tissue types over my twenty-six years to know, realistically, a donor could become available next month or next year or never." He stopped and gave them a minute to absorb the harsh reality of what he was saying. "So, you have a decision to make," he told them. "You can either wait and bank on the hope a donor will eventually be found - or, and I can only suggest this off the record, but you're a relatively young couple; there are _alternative_ ways to procure a donor."

"Are either of you," Dr. Sanders asked, treading gently, "familiar with the term 'savior sibling'?"

Charlotte's eyes went wide and her heart skipped a beat. She felt Cooper drop her hand out of sheer shock.

"It's a, uh, it's a baby," Cooper croaked, sounding like his tongue had gotten stuck to the roof of his mouth. "A 'savior sibling' is a baby."

"That's right," Dr. Sanders told them, pulling two pamphlets out of his paper tray and handing them each one. "A 'savior sibling' is a baby conceived through IVF and genetically screened to be Marjorie's _exact_ donor match." He offered up a small smile. "All the baby has to do is donate it's umbilical cord blood once it's born. We'll extract stem cells from that blood and transfuse them into Marjorie; it's really quite simple," he reassured them, adding with a certain twinkle in his eye, "I'd consider it if I were in your position."

**...TBC...

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**A/N: Oh, yeah. I've been planning this twist the whole flippin' time - hence, the title...REVIEW if you love Coop/Char babies! ;-)


	23. Such is Life

Where we left our heroes: Cooper and Charlotte were just told that they needed to have a second child in order to save Marjorie's life via a donation of life-saving cord blood. **

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Chapter Twenty-Three: Such is Life**

_Charlotte closed her eyes, gritted her teeth, gripped the hospital bed, and moaned softly as her doctor checked her progress. "You're still stalled at four centimeters," her O.B. reported. The sharp snap of medical gloves being pulled off barely registered, then her doctor's voice floated in over the intense waves of pain and nausea crashing over her, urging her, "You've been in labor for twenty-six hours, Charlotte, and you're not progressing. I think you need to open your mind to the possibility of an unscheduled c-section."_

_Charlotte swallowed the bile creeping up the back of her throat. "No," she bit out. "No c-section." _

_Bracing one hand against the hospital bedrail, her doctor leaned over her and said matter-of-factly, "You're exhausted. Your body is exhausted-"_

"_My body can do this," Charlotte snapped, her voice edgy from the pain. "I don't want a c-section and I don't need a c-section." She turned her head to look at the baby's heart monitor and felt the paper pillow, damp with sweat, stick to the back of her neck. "She's fine," Charlotte asserted, breathing heavy through her nose. "Her heart rate is fine. She's not in any distress-"_

"_I'm not worried about the baby," the doctor told her. "I'm worried about you." She held Charlotte's gaze while she breathed through the peak of her next contraction. "If you continue like this for another five, ten hours, you're gonna be too tired to push."_

_Charlotte's jaw clenched. "I'll be fine," she asserted, gingerly shifting onto her left side. Her face lost a little color and she grimaced. "I'll be fine," she repeated, and it was obvious she was bound and determined to keep to her birth plan. _

_Duke had made himself scarce for the last six or so hours he'd been at the hospital, so it surprised everyone when he spoke up and challenged his sister. "Charlotte, maybe you should consider gettin' the c-section. It'd be done and over with right quick." He added, uncharacteristically gentle, "There's no shame in it."_

_Charlotte massaged her belly on the right side, trying to alleviate some of her discomfort. "Duke," she began, her nostrils flaring as she continued to draw in slow, deep breaths. "You're here 'cause you wanted to be my support, so support me, damn it. Get me another pillow. Bring me some of those ice chips to crunch on. But don't," she emphasized, "don't you second guess me."_

_Charlotte bent her arm over her face. She didn't want them to see the exhausted tears welling up in her eyes and know she was weakening. "I'm a doctor, I'm a woman, and I know my limits." A strong, sudden contraction damn-near took the fight right out of her, but she managed to keep her tone level when she concluded, "I trust my body and y'all should, too. No c-section."_

_Duke bit back any sort of argument. "I'll go get you some ice chips."_

_The doctor led Duke out of the room and leaned the door closed. Charlotte could hear them talking in hushed voices out in the hallway but she didn't pay them any mind. They could talk all they wanted. They could talk until they were blue in the face. She wasn't going to change course. No way in hell. _

_She'd given Cooper her word. She'd promised him that she'd take care of their daughter. _

_The pain was unimaginable, almost unbearable. She felt like her body was being ripped apart from the inside out, but she would endure. She would endure because consenting to a c-section meant that she – an ex-addict – would need potentially addictive pain medication for recovery, and she'd never risk her daughter's childhood like that. _

_God knows, her baby had already lost one parent. _

Charlotte startled from her reverie when she felt a hand touch the small of her back. She didn't have to turn around to know who it was. She'd known full-well it was only a matter of time before Cooper came looking for her so they could talk about their situation.

"You're a hard woman to find," he told her, stepping up beside her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. He smiled when he got a good look at what she'd spent the last thirty minutes staring at; the viewing room of row upon row of newborn babies swaddled tight in the hospital nursery.

"Miraculous," Cooper remarked, drawing her a little bit closer. "Absolutely miraculous."

Charlotte could hear the awe and abject wonder in his voice, so it really didn't come as a surprise when he heaved a heavy sigh and confessed, "I think we should do it," adding with a little more conviction, "I think we should have another baby."

Charlotte could feel Cooper's eyes on her, anxiously waiting for her response.

Screwing up her courage, Charlotte looked at him and acknowledged, "Cord blood from a 'savior sibling' is Marjorie's best chance to beat her disease."

Cooper braced for bad news. "But?" he prompted, knowing Charlotte well enough to know she wasn't finished.

"But," she said, turning her gaze back onto the infants. "For the last half hour, I tried to imagine what it would be like – havin' another baby, but I kept comin' right back to the night Marjorie was born."

"I used to think I was so tough," Charlotte began, her voice taking on a dream-like quality. "But bein' in labor for thirty-six hours really put me in my place. The pain was excruciating, almost unbearable. It was like nothin' I'd ever experienced before, Coop, and I've been thrown from horses and broken bones." She took a deep breath. "Hour after hour, the pain breaks you down – not just physically, but emotionally. It messes with your head." Charlotte defiantly raised her chin even as she confessed to him, "I cried a lot towards the end of it; cried 'cause I was in pain, cried 'cause my heart was hurtin', cried 'cause you were supposed to be there with me and Marjorie was supposed to have a daddy-"

Cooper grimaced. "Char-"

"No, let me get this out," she told him, taking another deep breath. "Givin' birth was painful, but it was nothin' compared to what came next; watchin' this beautiful lil' blue-eyed baby grow up lookin' like you and actin' like you and remindin' me of you every damned day, and you weren't there to share in it."

Charlotte had tears swimming in her pale green eyes but she managed to choke out, "Now, I'm not askin' for any kind of forever commitment from you. Our relationship is tentative and I know that. But if I _do_ agree to have this baby, I'm gonna need you, Cooper." She impressed upon him and hoped to God that it made an impression when she told him, "I'm gonna need your help raisin' these kids for the next eighteen-plus years. I can't do it by myself. I just can't."

Cooper's expression was pained to the point of crying himself. "I'm here, Charlotte, and I'm not going _anywhere_," he emphasized. "Wild horses couldn't drag me away. I love Marjorie. She's my heart-"

"I know you love Marjorie," Charlotte cut in, grabbing his hand and squeezing it. "But try and see things from my perspective, okay?" He nodded once. "You've been an everyday part of Marjorie's life for over three months now and you're still her Dr. Cooper. You haven't tried to be anything but her Dr. Cooper." Charlotte confessed, "I guess I just feel like it would be real easy for you to walk away if the urge strikes because Marjorie doesn't know you're her daddy."

"I didn't- I thought-" Cooper rubbed his temple. His jaw clenched. "You told me Marjorie shouldn't know. You told me it would upset her. You told me I should wait until she was well." He dropped Charlotte's hand and struggled to control his temper as he bit out, "Know this, Charlotte; I wanted to hold Marjorie in my arms and call her mine the very first time I laid eyes on her. The only reason I haven't told her the truth is because I wanted to respect your wishes, _not_ because I wanted an out, okay?"

He put his finger in her face and avowed, "And for your information, you're already stuck with me for the next eighteen-plus years regardless of whether or not we have another baby." He expounded, "Marjorie is my daughter and I fully intend to exercise every single one of my parental rights. I'm gonna buy shit for school bake sales, I'm gonna scare the hell out of her prom date, I'm even gonna run a criminal background check on the boy she marries, okay? I am committed to her and her health and her happiness, even if arm wrestling her impossible _mother_ kills me."

A slow smile spread across Charlotte's face. "Well, believe it or not," she told him. "That's exactly the kind of crazy, totally committed _father_ I want for my children."

Cooper saw her smile and the light shining her eyes and slowly deflated. "You really mean that? You really want to have another baby?"

"It's not an ideal situation," she told him flat-out. "I mean, I never pictured myself havin' another one, let alone havin' another one to save the first one's life, but such is life, I guess."

Charlotte turned back to the viewing room of newborn infants. In the corner nearest to them, there was precious little boy swaddled tight in a white blanket. She imagined that their son would be infinitely more precious.

**...TBC...**

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A/N: This story has strayed SO FAR from its original premise. I think the next chapter might be a good place to stick an epilogue. Thoughts? Does anyone care if I cut things short? Is anyone still reading after my insane delay? (Also, Merry Christmas Eve, ya'll!)


	24. Everyone Has One

**Chapter**** Twenty****-Four: Everyone Has One  


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_A/N: Okay, I've read all your reviews – thank you, btw! – and the general consensus seems to be that y'all want the story to continue. Now, I know I'm a slow updater, and I'm sorry. I always have good intentions but I'm a busy college student. There just aren't enough hours in the day to update every single day. Anyways, ya'll asked for the story to continue, so I'll try not to disappoint...  


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"I'm actually scared," Cooper admitted, stalling outside the door of their daughter's hospital room. He scuffed his shoe against the floor and cleared this throat, crossing and re-crossing his arms over his chest. When he finally forced himself to meet Charlotte's gaze, he acknowledged the obvious by saying, "Once we go in there and tell Marjorie I'm her father, everything is going to change."

Charlotte carefully searched his face. "I thought that's what you wanted. I thought you wanted your relationship with Marjorie to grow and change, and develop beyond just bein' buddies."

"I _do_ want that," Cooper asserted, quick to add, "But this is a huge revelation for a little kid. We're about to take everything Marjorie knows about her family, about _who_ and _where_ she comes from, and turn it on its head. She's bound to be confused - especially since 'daddy' is such a foreign concept to her." He took a deep breath and confessed, "I guess I'm just worried that this conversation won't go well and she'll never forgive me."

"Cooper," Charlotte began, reaching out and smoothing his shirt collar. "You're bein' a little over-dramatic here, don't you think? Not every lil' thing spells the end of days." She reminded him, "You were Marjorie's age when your parents broke the news that you were adopted. Now," she challenged him, eyebrow arched. "Did that revelation ruin your relationship with them? Are you somehow scarred for life because of it?"

"No, of course not," he immediately asserted. "I love my parents. I owe them everything. I don't hold that conversation against them. They were just telling me the truth. It didn't change anything between us. It didn't erase all the love and all the care they'd given me-"

Cooper stopped short. He looked at Charlotte's smiling face and smiled himself, conceding, "Okay, I get your point; Marjorie won't hold this against us forever."

"Has it ever occurred to you, Coop, that Marjorie might actually be happy to learn you're her daddy?" The hangdog look on his face confirmed Charlotte's sneaking suspicion that Cooper hadn't allowed himself to think good things in case he got his heart stomped on. "Oh, Cooper," Charlotte sighed, her voice softening even as she chided him, "You shouldn't sell yourself so short. Marjorie idolizes you. She thinks you hung the moon and the stars in the sky."

Smiling softly, Cooper marveled, "You're amazing, Charlotte. I don't know how you can be so calm right now."

"The best thing we can do for Marjorie is be calm," she told him. "She's gonna take her cues from us; she'll be okay if we're okay."

Cooper nodded. He knew she was probably right.

"So, how are we going to do this?" Cooper rubbed his temple. He was trying his best to rally but he still looked nervous. "Do you want to take the lead and tell her, or should I?"

Charlotte was a little taken aback. She'd imagined - hell, she'd almost expected that Cooper would want to be the one to tell Marjorie. It surprised her that he would want to shirk that very important responsibility onto her shoulders.

But on second thought, Charlotte decided it was better that Cooper shirk that responsibility than say something regrettable because he was nervous.

"I'll do it." Charlotte saw the relief flood his face and truthfully, it annoyed her. "I'm her mother, so I'll do it. I'll tell her."

"Okay, good." Cooper fussed with the collar of his shirt before reaching for the door handle. He looked to Charlotte with a tight smile. "You ready?"

"Ready," she replied, following two steps behind him into the hospital room.

They both smiled when they found Marjorie stretched out sideways across the foot of her bed watching cartoons. She was using one of her many stuffed animals as a pillow - funny considering that she had two perfectly good pillows lying idol - as her skinny little chicken legs dangled off into the air.

Neither Charlotte nor Cooper could conceive of any possible way that position could be comfortable, but their daughter looked happy enough.

"Hey there, Ladybug." Charlotte perched at the head of the bed with an easy smile. She grabbed the remote and switched off the television; that certainly got their daughter's attention. "Momma and Dr. Cooper need to talk to you 'bout something very special."

Charlotte had phrased it that way on purpose. She wasn't about to say they wanted to talk to her about something 'very important' because that was the phrase she'd used to tell Marjorie about the cancer.

She wanted to frame this revelation in the best way possible.

Marjorie rolled onto her stomach and propped her head up on her elbows. "But momma," she complained, her voice pitching up into a whine. "I was in the middle of watchin' that."

"I'm sure you can catch it again on rerun," Charlotte told her, setting the remote out of reach on the bedside table. She smiled at her daughter for a beat, very cognizant of the fact that her child's life was about to change forever. "Momma needs to tell you a story, okay?"

Marjorie perked up. "A bedtime story - like, a fairytale?"

"Um, not quite." Charlotte sat forward and pulled her daughter into her lap. She smoothed the little girl's wispy blond hair out of her eyes. "It's a true story; a true story about momma and Dr. Cooper."

"A mushy gushy love story?" the little girl asked, scrunching up her nose as if to say 'ewww, gross!'.

Charlotte saw Cooper smile out of the corner of her eye. She smiled herself and reassured her daughter, "I'll leave out all the mushy gushy parts and keep to the facts, how does that sound?"

Marjorie's nod was a comically serious one. "Sounds good."

"Okay, good." Charlotte positioned her daughter sideways in her lap so they could look each other in the face. "Where should I start, do you think?" she asked, and she meant the question to be a rhetorical one.

The little girl answered anyway and told her, "Start from 'once upon a time'."

Charlotte smiled at her baby. "Okay... once upon a time - 'bout six years ago, back before you were born, momma used to live out here in California-"

Cooper piped up, "Seven years."

The interruption irked Charlotte, but after a second, she realized that his math was right. Marjorie was coming up fast on her sixth birthday, so that meant nearly seven years had passed since their first try at a relationship had gone up in smoke. God, that made her feel old.

"_Seven_ years ago," she corrected. "Your momma used to live out here in California and work at another hospital, where, occasionally, she would work with Dr. Cooper."

Charlotte knew she was rewriting history to a certain extent, but Marjorie had absolutely no business - not now, not ever - knowing about her parents' internet sexcapades. One glance at Cooper, seeing his vigorous nod, told her that he agreed wholeheartedly.

"Now," Charlotte continued, choosing her words very carefully. "Your momma and Dr. Cooper... we were very, very close. We dated for two years and we were...in love, and very happy together." She wrestled with her next disclosure but ultimately, she decided that Marjorie should know that, for the most part, her parents had been very committed to each other. "We almost got married, actually."

Marjorie immediately seized on that. Her blue eyes became round as quarters and she smiled a big Cheshire cat smile. "Are y'all gettin' married? Is that what you wanna tell me?"

The little girl started bouncing excitedly in her mother's lap until Charlotte cut in, "Whoa, whoa, Ladybug. Cooper and I aren't gettin' married. I was just sayin' that once upon a time, it almost happened. That's all."

Marjorie deflated and they were left with a very disappointed little girl. "Oh."

Charlotte tried to coax a smile out of her daughter when she told her, "Hey, don't get that way, Ladybug. The story isn't over yet. We're just gettin' to the good part - _you_."

"Me?" the little girl asked, her attention piqued. "What about me?"

"Well, you're the most important person in this story."

"I am?" Marjorie was wide-eyed and hanging on her mother's every word. "What'd I do?"

Cooper edged onto the hospital bed beside his family. He was obviously positioning himself nearby for the big reveal.

"Well," Charlotte paused for a beat. "Eventually, Cooper and I decided not to be boyfriend and girlfriend anymore, and I was very, very sad about that. It broke my heart a little bit. I thought I'd never be happy again, but then I found out that you were in my belly, that God had given you to me." Smiling at her daughter, she said, "And you made me happy again."

Cooper's chest swelled. He'd never heard Charlotte speak with so much love and genuine, heartfelt emotion. It was beautiful to hear.

Charlotte looked deep into their daughter's eyes, prompting her, "Remember last year when you asked me where babies come from? Do you remember what I told you?"

Marjorie nodded, and blurted out with no shame whatsoever, "Mommas and daddies get a baby from God when they have sex."

Cooper cringed when he heard the word 'sex' casually come out of his five-year-old's mouth, but then again, Charlotte had never sugarcoated anything for anyone. It made sense that she - a doctor and ex-sexologist - wouldn't shy away from explaining the facts of life to their daughter if asked.

"That's right," Charlotte confirmed with a nod. "God gives babies to mommas and daddies, so every baby that's born has one momma and one daddy." She indicated herself. "I have a momma and a daddy." She indicated Cooper. "Cooper has a momma and a daddy." Charlotte made a big, sweeping gesture with her hand and concluded, "Every single person born into this world has a momma and a daddy - even you."

Charlotte paused and took a deep breath before, finally, she confessed, "Sweetheart, God gave you to me and to Cooper. He's your daddy."

**...TBC...**

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A/N: Marjorie's unexpected reaction coming up next...REVIEW!


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